


Long Live the Chief

by muse_of_mbaku



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Reader-Insert, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-08-27 21:05:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16710019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muse_of_mbaku/pseuds/muse_of_mbaku
Summary: What happens when M'Baku, who rules his city with an iron fist, meets someone he's finally willing to let into his world. (Part One is a reader insert. Part Two shifts to O/C for clarity and ease of reading)





	1. Chapter 1

“I don’t like repeating myself.” 

There was no malice or volume to the words, just confidence. If you hadn’t been standing next to him at the bar you wouldn’t have even heard him. He was propped against the marble and cedar, his thick thighs straining against the pants of the well-tailored suit. It was dark, as were his eyes, but even in the dim light of the lounge you could tell it was expensive and custom made for his frame. That tall, massive, and sturdy frame. Your mouth felt dry suddenly and you wished the bartender would hurry up with your drink. 

“I’ll make an exception this time. Bring me my money and bring it now.”

This time you heard the bite to his voice. Beneath the beautiful accent that made you tingle a little more than you cared to admit, you could hear what could only be described as a controlled growl. The bartender, one that seemed to be there expressly for his service, gulped and disappeared into a door marked Employees Only. The man, the cowl of anger now dissipated, rotated until his lower back rested against the bar rail, his hand wrapped around a tumbler of amber liquid. He took a sip and the scowl returned. Before you had a chance to draw another breath, the glass in his hand shattered against the bank of liquors neatly arranged behind him. He roared a name, one you couldn’t quite make out through his rage, and the shaky bartender reappeared as pale as a ghost. 

“I specifically asked for a double shot of Suntory Hibiki 17 year. This is not that.” 

The heavy leather envelope in the shaken man’s hands bulged in his grip. It looked as if he couldn’t lift his eyes, looked as if he was blinded with fear. “We…sir…it is no longer in stock.” 

The laughter pushing between a set of beautiful lips was sinister. The calm confidence was back in his voice when he spoke. “I find that to be humorous. Now, I’m sure we both recall when I last visited this hell hole, I ordered a case to be here for my demands and needs. Is that not how our last encounter went, Charles?” 

You couldn’t keep your eyes off of the thick digits tapping the cool marble. They were elegant, well-manicured, and made your mouth water. The bark of his voice snapped you back to the present.

“Answer me!” 

“You are correct, Mr. Adebayo. It would appear that some of the other staff may have taken it upon themselves to sell it to the general public.” His gaze still hadn’t lifted.

“If my math is correct? $700 per bottle at six bottles per case. You now owe me an additional $4,200.” 

He beckoned with his fingers and the oxblood leather envelope was dwarfed in his palm. “This is all of it?” 

He tossed it to a figure behind him, a bulky man with gold slugs and a headful of neatly braided locs. “Count it. If it’s short? I’m taking my pound of flesh and we both know that’s not a figure of speech.” 

You felt rooted in place, the drink in front of you now warming amid the quiet chaos of the room. People tried to pretend as if they were not entranced by the power and danger radiating off the man standing next to you. 

“Charles, you know I’m very possessive when it comes to things that belong to me.” 

You knew his gaze had landed on you when heat spiked in your skin. You met his eyes briefly and saw a measure of desire that you’d never experienced. He stepped closer to you, bringing the spice of his cologne and bass of his voice with him. One finger glided down your bare arm. 

“For example, if this beautiful creature here belonged to me and you dared breathe in her direction? I’d have you scalped. What belongs to me belongs to me no matter how small or large. Do we have an understanding?” 

Mr. Adebayo, as you’d heard him called, let his finger travel in the opposite direction against your forearm. From behind him you heard the equally calm voice of his right-hand man tell him the count was correct. 

“Sir, can we make an arrangement for the additional funds? A week to gather it perhaps?” 

His attention shifted. It was as if a light dimmed in his eyes. “When have you ever known me to cut deals that do not benefit me? You have until the end of the night. Leave it with her. I’ll be back by closing.” 

You opened your mouth to protest. He quieted you with a look. “I want to see you here. You don’t want to disappoint me, do you?” 

A quick glance over his shoulder let you see the henchmen shake his head in the negative. You relented. 

“Good. I’ll see you at 2:00am, beautiful. Give her anything and everything she wants.” And like that he was gone.

***  
If another person came over to your table and smiled, you were going to scream. It had been hours and your nerves were shot. Three drinks and a free dinner in, you were ready to go. The lounge was chilly and all you’d wanted to do was call a car service and go home. You could almost feel your favorite sweats and t-shirt against your skin and the plush cocoon of your mattress. Instead, you were sequestered away in VIP alone while the staff buzzed around you like some sort of superstar. Hours one and two were fun, but now it was hour six and there was still a half hour to go. 

You were done. Shoving the untouched nightcap and dessert across the table, you gathered your clutch in your hand and pushed your way past the bartender who’d been standing like a sentry next to the small set of stairs leading to your section. His fingers encircled your arm and you glanced down at them. 

“You can’t leave. Mr. Adebayo wants you here.”

You were angry, at both yourself and him. At yourself because you’d actually let the clearly dangerous, but intriguing man convince you to sit in bar waiting to give him money you were sure at one point had been covered in blood. It didn’t matter that you could still feel your arm humming from his touch or how much you wanted to hear his voice again. You knew he was trouble. And you were upset with Charles for not having a backbone. All the man had done was throw a glass and it was as if the world stopped. He needed to be taken down a peg. Clearly Charles was too much of a coward to do so. 

“Whatever you and Mr. Adebayo have to discuss can be done so in a two party fashion. I, on the other hand, am going home,” you hissed and tried to unfurl his grip on your upper arm. 

“Let me go.” Charles did not relent. “Now!” 

Even the volume of your voice did not deter him. He used the bulk of his body to press you back towards the stairs, nearly dragging you up them before shoving you back into the chair. It scraped across the floor with a whine and you nearly lost your balance.

“Are you out of your mind?!” You wanted to rise, but there was something feral in his glare. 

“Are you out of yours? Do you have any idea what he will do to me if you aren’t here? Do you have any idea who he is?” 

He wrung his hands as he paced the room. “He’d kill me before either of us could blink.” 

Your skin went icy. “Who is he?” 

Charles spoke in hushed whispers as if he was afraid he was being watched. M’Baku Adebayo, head of the Jabari Family, was power personified. He ruled the city with an iron fist, snapping up properties and selling protection to those who unwittingly settled into them. He had his hands in every dirty deal outside of drugs. That’s where he drew the line. You scoffed. A criminal with morals. Still, between protecting his interests and taking over whatever he wanted, you knew his hands were far from clean. It had been your luck you’d stumbled into a weekly pick up of protection money. You chastised yourself for deciding to be adventurous and taking yourself out on a date that evening. 

“So, you have his money?” 

Charles nodded and tapped the envelope on the ledge next to where he’d been standing. You studied the damask tablecloth in front of you. It was beautiful, a midnight blue with flecks of gold. 

“Then I’m sure he won’t care if I’m here or not,” you moved to rise from the chair. In an instant, Charles was crouched in front of you and pinning you to your seat. 

“You are not understanding me. You will be here when he returns. If I have to bash you in your pretty head then so be it.” He gripped your jaw tightly. “Do you hear me?” 

Movement in the distance drew your gaze from Charles’ glazed one. Mr. Adebayo’s bulk filled the doorway. His arms were folded across his massive chest, his eyes were hard. Charles jerked your face back to his. His hold tightened.

“I asked you a question!” 

“I’ll answer for her.” That calm again. 

Charles deflated, his hand dropping from your face. “Mr. Adebayo!”

M’Baku tutted and shook his head. “It seems we haven’t been on the same page this evening, Charles. It’s a shame.” 

“I was simply reminding her that you required her to stay.” 

M’Baku ignored his statement. “What did I say about that which belongs to me? Especially her?” 

“Sir, you were speaking in hypotheticals.”

Whatever was to come next was lost as M’Baku crossed the room in two long strides and wrapped a single large hand around Charles’ throat. 

“N’Jadaka, clear it out.” 

Scant seconds passed before you heard the lounge being emptied of everyone. Now, only the sound of Charles struggling to breathe and the solid reverb of his body slamming into the nearest wall echoed. For the second time in a night, you were rooted in place. 

“I suppose you are correct, my dear man. She does not belong to me. Yet.” He glanced over his shoulder at you. “However, you have clearly overstepped a boundary. Bash in her head, you said?” 

The calm was now a growl again. You shivered and curled into yourself. You didn’t want to see this. 

“I’m fine, Mr. Adebayo. He has your money. I was here. Can we please just all part ways?”

He smiled and it was beautiful. “No, my love. Charles has disrespected me one too many times this evening and in the past. N’Jadaka, please see my sweetheart to the car. I’ll be out shortly.” 

The silent man approached you with an outstretched hand. You placed yours into his and let him guide you out of VIP while trying to block out the first sounds of fists on flesh. 

***  
Outside the lounge the street was empty. When N’Jadaka was told to clear the area it was more than evident he took the order seriously. Idling at the curb, a matte black Mercedes G-Wagon commanded your attention. It was beautiful. Elegant and understated like its owner. N’Jadaka opened the door and waited somewhat impatiently for you to come back to the present. 

“That’s okay. I’m going to call a car. Please, tell Mr. Adebayo thank you.” 

“Get in the car, Miss. Please don’t make me force you. I really don’t feel like tussling with that man for putting hands on you.” He sounded weary. 

You stood there, the air around you more chilly than that of the lounge and knew your black skater dress wasn’t enough to fend off the cold. You looked from the truck to your phone and back. Hesitation was masked across your face.

“He’s a good dude. He’s not gonna try anything.”

“Charles let me know what kind of person your boss is. No thank you.” 

“So that means you won’t give me the chance to get to know you?” 

For such a large man he was quiet, moved smoothly. He was wiping his hands on a black handkerchief, occasionally glancing at his knuckles. Tossing the fabric into a nearby trash can, he straightened his tie. 

“Such a shame. I think we’d be good together. Think about it, usana.” 

You blinked at the foreign word. He chuckled as he came to a stop before you. “You’d eventually learn my native tongue among other things if you’d only give me a chance. Charles?”

You gasped as the bloodied man stumbled out of the doorway. One arm was wrapped around his ribcage, the other pressed against the wall to steady himself. 

“Apologize.” 

You watched him choke on his own blood before he pushed out what you could barely decipher as an apology. You nodded shakily and accepted. 

“Now, let this be made perfectly clear. She belongs to me. No hypotheticals. This will be your first and last warning.” 

With a small flair of his hand, M’Baku gestured towards the open door of the truck. “After you, usana.” 

You hesitated again, your hand clutching your phone more tightly. You threw a glance at Charles, noting the anger and hatred even through the beating he’d taken. M’Baku stepped forward and looped an arm around your waist. 

“I’ll make you a promise. As long as you are with me, this life is nothing you will ever have to deal with. Get to know me. Please.” 

***  
“You love it here don’t you, little one?” 

The view was dizzying. High above the city, nearly everything around you was glass. It was as if M’Baku had looked directly into your mind and recreated it. The loft was beautiful. Perfectly modern and warm at the same time. His bulk pressed into you from behind and you leaned into it. Your head rested against his shoulder.

“I do. It’s breathtaking.”

“It’s yours,” he said simply. 

When you attempted to move, he held you fast. His large palms spanned your belly then swept down to your hips. “Don’t say it’s too much. I want you to have it.”

“Then tell me the real reason behind it.” You’d spent many nights at the loft, but never had M’Baku offered it as a gift. 

You felt the slow and steady breathing pause for a moment and then restart. It had been six months. Six months of a whirlwind. Bags and dinners and trips and money and jewels and everything your heart could desire whether or not you wanted it. When M’Baku set his eyes on you, it was as if the rest of the world had melted away. You were terrified at first, knew danger was always at the outskirts of your time with him. But then you’d settled into the respect and the luxury and for a while you could forget just how he came about his fortune. 

M’Baku pulled you to a sectional splayed in front of the massive windows that made up the east wall of the loft. He pulled you down on top of him and banded his arms around you. 

“I can’t simply give you a gift?” He fingered a lock of your hair.

“A gift is the $10,000 purse you gave me a week ago. A gift is the earrings and the watches. This is an investment, Bayo, and it’s too much. Why?”

“Before I answer, will you accept it? No strings attached?” He gripped your chin and made you meet his eyes. “No matter what happens, it’s yours.” 

You relented and laid your head on his chest. There was no use in fighting. M’Baku did what he wanted when he wanted. If you so much as glanced at something it showed up within hours or days. If you mentioned something, it appeared. 

“Are you trying to buy me?” 

His chuckle, at any other time, would have caused one of your own. This time it didn’t and he sobered quickly. “I am not trying to buy you. I’m trying to show you I care.” 

“There are words for that, you know.” 

“I’m a man of action. Words are easily misconstrued or misheard. When I do something, I mean it. Now, as for your question. I do bad shit. I hurt people. I take their money. I may ruin a life or two. People want me dead. You are a way to get to me. I’m protecting my interest. I’m protecting you.” 

“So, I have the pleasure of being locked away while you move about the world while doing exactly what you want?”

“The life I lived before you, usana. You forget that.”

“You also forget I had a life before you. A life that was mine.” 

“A boring one. Devoid of passion.”

Your eyes widened and you pushed from his arms. “It’s money night, right? I’ll see you later,” you spat and retreated to the bedroom.

***  
The lounge was the same boring place it always was. M’Baku sat in a back booth, his fingers drumming impatiently on the damask before him. The space was tastefully done. He’d been happy to see that once the lease had been signed and the new tenant had moved in. It had taken two years, but eventually the owner had gotten into the rhythm of the pickups. That owner was now approaching him cautiously. 

“Harrington. To what do I owe this honor? Charles is indisposed?”

M’Baku observed the man attempting to bite his tongue out of respect and fear. “If I can be frank? He would prefer to not handle the pickups. He’s still healing, you know?”

“It’s been six months. You retain such delicate employees that they can’t be corrected without shattering?” M’Baku flexed a fist. “So be it. I take it my money is ready?”

The oxblood envelope pressed across the table in his direction. He raised it towards N’Jadaka who appeared and took it for a count. M’Baku sipped his drink, glad to taste what he expected and not some lesser liquor that was simply swill in a fancy bottle. He saw N’Jadaka’s affirmation in the distance and rose to leave.

“Sir? May I speak with you? I wanted to offer you another proposition.”

M’Baku smiled wryly. It always came to this. “And what would that be?” he asked as he towered over the table.

“I’ve come across a second very reasonably priced supplier. We could make a fortune here…”

M’Baku cut him short. “A supplier of what? If it has anything to do with drugs, do not respond. I’ve given you my answer more than once. It would be a shame if I would have to teach you a lesson, too.”

The man pressed his lips into a line. This conversation had been had more times than M’Baku cared for and his patience was running thin. There were lines he was not willing to cross. 

“Good. Don’t waste my time again.”

***  
What was left of the day was being defeated by dusk when your eyes opened. The space beside you, the white sheets tangled, was filled with something solid and strong. He was on the phone, his fingers moving rapidly across the screen despite their size. The phone’s glow highlighted the planes and angles of his face. You weren’t sure if he knew it, but he was beautiful. Your fingers itched to reach out and touch his arm, then climb into his lap. 

“Go back to sleep, usana. I’ll be here when you wake.”

“And in the meantime you leave agan?”

He sighed heavily as if he was trying to control his temper. You heard the tiny click of his phone locking and then being slid onto the bedside table. In a swift motion, he sat up fully against the tufted headboard and secured you into his lap. The clamp of his hands on your waist was bruising and pleasurable at the same time.

“Are you questioning me?” He cocked an eyebrow at you. “Do you not have my undivided attention when I am with you?”

“Between your phone, N’Jadaka, and the ever-present fear of everyone in a ten miles radius? No, I don’t.”

“You knew who and what I was from the very first night you met me, sweetheart.”

It was a matter of fact statement that had you seeing red. “You told me I never had to worry about it. And look at me! I’m sitting in a gilded cage.”

You tried to move, but the grip on your waist tightened as he sucked his teeth.

“Where are you going? You think you’ll get spoiled like this anywhere else? This is a beautiful cage, is it not?”

“I never asked you for anything.”

“But you take everything I provide?”

You mulled for a moment, thinking of how to tell him the thing that was planted deeply in your heart. “You don’t think I’m afraid of you, too?”

Everything around you stilled. An inferno raged in his eyes while his jaw twitched. “You’re afraid of me?”

“Sometimes. You don’t realize what you do to people, do you?”

M’Baku bit into your neck and elicited a sharp hiss. He soothed it with his lips. “What do I do to people, love?”

The sweet calmness of his voice was frightening. If you hadn’t witnessed flashes of his brutality and domination you might have believed you were in the clear. You knew that you weren’t because there was too much silence between his words. You tried moving again and were met with his fast thickening member. Your brain short circuited as you knew he was aware it would. You rolled your hips by instinct and heard his chuckle vibrate his chest. He thrust up into you in one motion. Your arms clasped around his neck and you sank deeper onto him with a fluttering moan. 

“You still haven’t answered me.” He let his tongue find your pulse and linger there. “What do I do to people?”

“You take what you want. Leave them afraid and unsure,” you panted as he started a slow rock and pull of your body against his. 

“Take what I want? Like you? Like this?” He snapped his hips hard enough to bounce your breasts heavily. He captured one in a palm and squeezed. “Do you mind being taken by me? Huh?”

Your eyes closed, bottom lip pulled between your teeth. You moved your hips faster, startled when his free hand clamped down on a cheek and drug your drenched sex slowly up and down his length. 

“I’m sure you don’t mind. I feel the way you clench around me. How each and every time I fuck you I leave you a sated and exhausted mess.”

You didn’t want to answer because you knew it was true. His power, both in and out of the bedroom, was intoxicating. You just hadn’t been able to fully reconcile that knowledge in your own mind. 

“Speechless, are you?” M’Baku grinned wickedly and planted his feet flat into the mattress, his thighs spread wider. Such a simple action seated him more deeply within you. Something guttural escaped your lips. 

“I like that. Do it again.” he commanded.

He thrust and withdrew enough to make you moan with the absence. When he filled you again, his wish was granted. He seemed to find pleasure in your inability to form coherent words as he jackhammered into you like a man possessed. 

“You’re afraid of me?” he growled before flipping you onto your back. A hand grasped at the column of your neck, applied pressure. “This is when you should be afraid of me. When I have the ability to snap your pretty little neck or choke the life out of you.” 

You clawed at his wrists, but he captured your hands in his free one and held them above your head. His strokes did not slow. He kissed you until your lips felt bruised. Each snap of his hips jolted you and it was all you could do to wrap your legs around his waist to hold on. 

“You like when I’m rough, right? When I have to raise my voice?” 

His words increased in volume and set your heart thudding. He bit your earlobe before pressing his mouth to it. “You love being owned by me. Possessed?” 

You nodded, dug your nails into the muscled back canopied above you.

“I want to hear you say it. You belong to me?”

“I’m yours,” you managed to push before you shuddered beneath him. 

M’Baku released his hold on your neck and cupped your face. “Ndingowakho, naye.” (I belong to you, too) His kiss was tender, the fury in his eyes dissipated. 

“You have no reason to be afraid of me, ngelosi. I’d kill to keep you safe.” 

***  
The slight dip of the mattress as M’Baku caged your body between his arms made you stir. It was sometime in the late evening, the blued light of the city not yet giving way to morning. His lips dragged from your neck to your collarbone and back. He nipped at the skin until you felt a shock of pain. He soothed it with his tongue before taking your mouth. A hand culled around your throat as he plunged into you to gather the lingering bits of sweetness. 

“I gotta go. ‘Daka says something’s up,” he mumbled against your mouth before rising and pulling his shirt over his head. “I’ll come by later and we’ll do a little shopping, okay?” 

“I don’t need to go shopping, M’Baku. I have everything I need.” 

“And you’ll have more. My girl gets what she wants whether or not she wants it.” 

You watched him transform from the man who’d spent the night using your breasts as a pillow, dead to the world and with his guard completely down. You felt pride that in the few months you’d been in his life you’d given him a respite he still refused to admit he needed. When he turned back to you, the fitted sweater and heathered slacks hugging his frame, he was Mr. Adebayo. You felt sick as he tucked the gun at the small of his back. You’d never get used to it, hated it when he insisted you learn. Pulling the sheets around your torso you accepted his final kiss before he headed out in the waning evening. 

Life with M’Baku was exciting except when it wasn’t. Waiting on him sometimes seemed liked torture. You missed your life, your ability to move easily throughout the world without feeling the shadow of a bodyguard or specter of danger when you were alone. The only place M’Baku fully allowed you to let your guard down was at the loft tucked away high above the hustle and bustle of the city.

That’s where you found yourself now. The town glittered below you in all its glory and even from such a height you could make out the people strolling in and out of the shops and restaurants. You yearned to join the fray for even a few moments. Sliding on a pair of jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt, you padded to the door to press your feet into your favorite metallic sequined Converse. M’Baku thought they were tacky, but you found them adorable. Before you could unlace your sneakers, a solid knock on the door paused you. M’Baku. His code, two short knocks then two long raps, was to ensure you never opened the door for anyone other than him or N’Jadaka. 

You swung open the heavy door to find someone other than who you expected. The trio, clad in black with balaclavas shielding everything except their eyes and mouths, rushed into the room, shoving you to the ground and skidding you across the hardwood hallway floor. Your tailbone ached, but you scrambled to your feet to make it to the safe room M’Baku had installed as a last line of defense. Rounding the corner of living room, you ran directly into the solid body of one of the intruders. He culled your back to chest and pressed a damp cloth to your mouth. You kicked, bucked so strongly against him that your legs raised from the ground. His comrade grasped them, your body hammocked between them until the world started to fuzz at the edges. You didn’t want to die. This had to be death. Your mind would let no other possibility form. Using your last bit of energy, you clamped down on the cloth and the hand beyond it. The startled yelp of your captor was followed by the thump of your body hitting the ground. 

You tried to escape, but a heavy hand on your ankle dragged you back into the cloth again. This time, the world did not just fuzz at the edges. It turned black and then it turned to nothing.

***  
M’Baku’s long legs were stretched out before him in the backseat of his truck. Beside him, N’Jadaka scrolled through his phone. They were traversing the city, headed towards a meeting he hadn’t called nor wanted to attend. Outside the tinted windows, the city whipped by in a blur of neon. M’Baku pushed her to the back of his mind and locked his burgeoning emotions away. This was no time to remember he had actual feelings. The weight of the gun sitting at the base of his spine was a heavy reminder of who and what he was. A businessman. A thug. A killer when the situation called for it. Above all, he was a man to be respected and feared. 

“How many pickups tonight?” Money nights always seemed to drag on and even when the cash was overflowing, M’Baku was annoyed by having to deal with the excuses and the shorts and the overbearingness of the scores of women drawn by the smell of bank notes. 

“Six. Then the meeting. Got plans with her again?” 

M’Baku stilled, locked his phone, and turned to face the man beside him. “You’re being a little bit too familiar right now, Daka. What plans I may nor may not have with her aren’t up for discussion.”

N’Jadaka scoffed. “I’ve known you long enough to know this ain’t normal for you. Since when I have I ever trailed one of your toys?” 

M’Baku bristled. Toys. That was usually true. This time he wasn’t sure.

“Shut the fuck up. Let’s get this done so you can get out of my face before we have an unfortunate incident.” Silence descended for a few blocks. 

“They cancelled,” N’Jadaka murmured as M’Baku’s private cell sounded an alarm. 

The insistent red blip on the screen in his palm made everything in M’Baku grind to a halt. In the three months since he’d had the enhanced security system installed in her loft, there’d only been one instance that he’d rushed there due to an alarm. He’d found her, curled on a chaise next to the windows, the entrance door propped open to wait for food delivery. M’Baku had given her a rundown of how the system worked, let her know any alarms rang directly to his private line for her. According to the device now vibrating in his hand, the front door had been open for nearly ten minutes.

M’Baku switched on the cameras, something he vowed to only do in situations such as these. In the distance of the hallway camera, he could make out the heavy cedar door left ajar and that damned sparkly pair of sneakers scattered in front of it. He hated those shoes. Angle after angle showed no signs of her.

“Turn the car around. Now!” he barked. Whether it be something truly wrong or she needed another reminder, M’Baku wasn’t taking a chance. His life and everything around it was colored with the possibility of blood and chaos. He’d done his best to shield her from that.

“What’s the deal?” N’Jadaka’s voice was monotone, his eyes still trained on his phone.

When M’Baku’s silence continued to fill the vehicle, he locked the device and looked up. “What’s up, Bak?”

“Alarm at the loft. I can’t see her on any camera.”

When the truck came to a stop at the curb in front of the massive high rise, M’Baku crawled calmly from it. Never let them see you sweat, he reminded himself. He gave a tight nod to Dorian, the concierge, and made his way to the private bank of elevators, N’Jadaka on his heels. 

***

Her phone, plugged in and fully charged, was on the nightstand. Her purse sat on the bench at the end of the bed, its contents all still in their respective places. He fingered the quilted leather and briefly remembered he’d had to force her to accept the pricey accessory. A quick swivel of his head told him all her luggage and clothing was in place. The room, rich in cobalt, white, and gold, was as neatly kept as she left it each morning. Even the bed was made. The only thing missing was her. Something in him caught fire. He beckoned N’Jadaka over.

“Bring Dorian to me. Clear the lobby, too.” The man, posing as the guard for the entire building, was one of his own and had been brought in to shadow her without her feeling crowded. He’d been trusted to ensure her safety. How many nights had he been plotting? How many times had he watched her for his own gain? M’Baku intended to find out. Nothing, and no one, entered that building without Dorian’s knowledge. And to make it the penthouse loft undisturbed? M’Baku felt every bit of his body coil in anger. The sound of the door closing pulled his mask of composure back into place. 

“Did she leave?” There was no need to beat around the bush. “It appears my most prized possession has gone missing on your watch.” 

“I can’t recall her leaving, sir.”

“Can’t recall her leaving? Your job, for which you are handsomely paid, is to ensure her safety and comfort in my absence. How is it possible you do not know if she left this building?” 

He watched in disgust as the man stumbled over excuses. He raised his palm to stop him then something caught his eye. 

“You were in the loft?” M’Baku questioned as he stalked closer to the man.

“No, Mr. Adebayo, I was not. I only saw her when the two of you returned last night.”

“I never thought you’d be one to lie to me, Dorian.” M’Baku cracked his knuckles, studied them for a moment. The scars were faint, but they were there. “Let me rephrase my question. Perhaps you will understand it a bit better.”

He could see the confidence leaking out of the man. It made him sick. M’Baku was a firm believer that once you made a decision you had to stand in it no matter the consequences. Dorian had betrayed him and now he was shirking from the wrath surely to come down upon him.

“I haven’t been good to you? To your family?”

The unsteady bob of the man’s Adam’s apple was irksome. “You have, sir. I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

“Good. Good. So, I’ll ask you again. Were you in the loft this evening?”

“I promise you I wasn’t, sir. Not until this very moment.”

M’Baku stepped closer and saw the man flinch. “Funny thing about black. It tells all tales. It takes a very careful man to keep it clean.”

One of M’Baku’s thick fingers stretched out to pluck something from the man’s forearm. The tiny sequin barely made a space on his blunt fingertip.

“I always found those shoes tacky. You know which ones I’m talking about, Dorian?”

“I’m…”

“Please don’t continue to lie to me.” He dropped his head and when it rose, his eyes were black, void of any emotion. “Where is she?”

When an immediate answer did not come, M’Baku’s fist dove into the wall next to the man’s head. The noise boomed throughout the room. He studied the terrified peon for a moment. “Where. Is. She?”

There was another beat before a heavy balled fist broke the air and landed with precision directly against the man’s throat. He sputtered, choking and collapsing to his knees.

“You know me well enough to know this will not end well. Nor will it end with you alive. The level of pain through which you exit this world is up to you.” He culled the man by the scruff of his neck to make him meet his gaze. “Where is she? Better yet, who has her?”

There was a deadly calm swirling in M’Baku’s heart, one that belied how his skin was aflame and his mind was starting to shut down rational thought. Another fist, just as heavy, plowed into the man’s jaw. M’Baku felt the crack of bone breaking and took some measure of pleasure at the crimson spilling from Dorian’s now slack mouth. He dropped him to the floor.

“I have my theories, but those are for another time. The longer she is kept from me, the angrier I become. And you know what happens when I lose my cool, Dorian? Friends and families get tracked down. Homes visited. That sound good to you?”

The man shook furiously, small splatters of blood dotting the walls and floor against which he cowered. “Charles…approached me…said she was…easy target…” His words broke into a squeal as M’baku’s heel came grinding down on the back of his hand.

“Easy target?” He knew his words were feral, but inside he knew it was somewhat true. Where was she now? In the ether of the world because he hadn’t properly ensured her safety. He ground down his foot until he heard more bones creaking and breaking under the pressure. A series of short punches splattered blood back onto M’Baku’s clothes. 

“Daka? Get the tub ready if you will.” The heavy footsteps of his right-hand man retreated and returned, the crinkle of plastic echoed. 

“Full service?” He took leave once more when M’Baku nodded in the affirmative.

M’Baku crouched down in front of the man now holding his shattered hand feebly against his chest. Blood dripped and pooled on his black shirt.

“You look a mess. And to think all of this could have been avoided if you’d simply just let me know that were vultures circling. Now, I have a few more questions before we get to it. Cool?”

***  
Fire, or at least what felt like it, was radiating from your wrists and up your forearms. Zip ties bit into your skin each time you flexed fingers that were rapidly numbing. A dull ache throbbed at the base of your spine and you knew had you been able to see the skin it would be a deep purple and blue. The floor beneath you was cold, a rough concrete that scraped the skin of your face each time you attempted to shift position. A shiver passed through you and set your body into a ripple of fear and discomfort. You’d screamed for hours, your voice echoing back to you along with the tinny drip of water somewhere in the distance. You couldn’t be sure how long you’d been there. A day? Maybe two? When the world had returned to color, you’d already been bound and left alone. The hours had ticked by slowly with no human interaction, no food, and no water.   
You were hoarse, only able to make a few croaking sounds. At the creak of an unseen door opening, you shuffled as best you could deeper into the shadows.   
“Now, sweetheart, don’t hide! I just want to see that pretty face.” The voice was sickeningly sweet and full of both sarcasm and wrath.   
You tried to pace your breathing to even and make as little noise as possible, but a strong hand gripped your calf and drug you into the small bit of light present in the space.   
“There you are! No worse for the wear, right?” The back of his hand feathered across the scrapes on your cheeks. “He’s on his way, you know? All these years and all I had to do was wait to find the perfect bargaining chip to bring him to me.”   
You narrowed your eyes despite the insane beating of your heart. If M’Baku had taught you anything, it was to never let your opponent see your hand. No matter how terrified you were, this asshole wasn’t going to be privy to it. He jerked you to sitting roughly, straining the muscles between your shoulders in the process.   
“Yea, you belong to him. That bravado is rubbing off on you. Don’t you worry though. We’ll correct that soon enough. Let’s go.”   
Pulling you to your feet, he pushed you towards a door you hadn’t noticed. Your knees were weak and you nearly buckled. He gripped your bound wrists and held you aloft from behind. It was like torture putting one foot in front of the other. Your legs felt like static.   
“Move!” He nudged you forward and your knees met the ground with bright pain.   
“Fuck you!” It slipped out and fear settled into you quickly. A hand twisted into your hair. You saw stars at the pressure.   
“I don’t want to. I want something else and you’re going to help me get it.” He lifted you to your feet by his grip on both your wrists and your hair. “We have somewhere to be, sweetheart.”   
You stumbled into the nearly blinding light outside of the door. Your eyes struggled to adjust to the drastic change, your lids closing and opening until the world moved from silhouette to solid. Before you, every inch of him exuding rage, was M’Baku. And for the first time since you’d known him, N’Jadaka’s eyes danced with something other than boredom. He looked furious. You wanted to cry out at the sight of them, knowing that even if blood was spilled and none of you made it out alive M’Baku had come for you. Instead you steeled yourself as best you could and waited for the chaos to begin.   
***  
M’Baku was struggling to control his breathing. He pushed out angry breaths through his nose, felt his body coiling to the point of cramping. His fingers flexed around the Glock in his palm. He ached to aim and fire a bullet directly into the center mass and heads of the two men standing before him. The sight of her, bound and bruised, was enough to make him forget his first rule to always remain in control. M’Baku tried to catch her eye without drawing attention to his need to connect with her. 

“Which one of you placed your hands on her?” 

He needed to know. Needed to know who deserved a slow death. “Understand I will murder you where you stand.”

It was a fact not a promise. He watched Harrington push her into the waiting arms of Charles. She swayed and nearly collapsed. M’Baku made another mental note to make their deaths even more painful. 

“Now that I have your attention, Adebayo, we can get back to negotiations. Isn’t that correct?” 

“I don’t make deals. You’ve learned the quite well over the years.” M’Baku’s fingers flexed around the gun again. 

“I haven’t had a bargaining chip before.”

“And you assume you have one now?” He scoffed and bristled inwardly at her recoil. “Like I said, I don’t make deals. And if this is the same one you’ve been offering? This is a waste of my time.” 

He set his face to steel and stared down Harrington. The energy in the room shifted. Charles looked cagey, like he’d been waiting on revenge since the night he had to be taught a lesson about respect. M’Baku didn’t trust the man now holding what he wanted most in the world. 

“This deal may be a little sweeter. Let’s talk, shall we?” 

“Let her go, dismiss your minion, and perhaps I’ll give you the honor of wasting even more of my time.”

Harrington chuckled and ignored his request. 

“As I see it, I’ve been paying this money for years now. And all I’ve been asking you for is a chance to carve out my own little piece of the pie. The lounge does it’s job as a cover, but this area’s ripe for lots of money to be made.”

“By poisoning the people? Lucrative but destructive. The answer is still no. It’s money night. Either pay me what you owe me or let’s end this now.”

“Who am I to deny the people what they want? Supply and demand, Adebayo. It’s simple business.” 

“No. If hear of a single grain of that shit being sold anywhere I’ve even breathed in, I’m killing everything moving. Is that understood?”

It was already set in M’Baku’s mind that neither man would be walking out of the room alive that night no matter the deal Harrington was trying to make. 

“I’ll give you a 20% cut plus your current fees. Not that you need the money. That loft you bought her is beautiful. What was it? 5.5 mil? An even six?” The disgust was thick in his voice. 

“Why does it matter? She isn’t important. Give me my money and I’ll think about forgetting this ever occurred.” 

“M’Baku?” Her voice was raspy, seemed painful coming from her throat.

He didn’t want to look at her and see tears falling. She called his name again and he turned his head towards her with feigned disinterest. 

“Sweetheart, you were fun. But my business is my business. You didn’t want any parts of it, remember?” 

He watched her face break then rebuild itself in an instant. He’d taught her well. She lowered her head and when it rose she looked as she never had before. 

“I had fun with you, too. Now let’s really get down to business.”   
***  
You wished that you could have captured the looks on each of the faces in the room. Even N’Jadaka’s stoic expression had cracked open in disbelief. 

You straightened your back and winced at the aches it caused. Your gaze traveled between Harrington and Charles. “Understand this. He threatened to murder you where you stood. I refuse to dirty my hands. You’ll meet your end soon enough.” 

Even with your hands bound and your face bruised you felt powerful, felt the level of testosterone in the room ebbing to a new low. 

“Why do the two of you think no one crosses the bridge into the suburbs? The surrounding towns and cities? Because you aren’t crazy. “

Harrington laughed from somewhere deep inside his chest. “What the fuck do you know about that, sweetie? This is big boy business.” 

Your jaw ticked. “You see, that’s the problem. The lot of you are out here measuring dicks and pissing up walls. In the meantime? All of that real estate is locked down airtight.” 

“By Umoya (The Ghost). And that ain’t you.” 

“Are you sure? You men get so caught up in women as toys. Makes it easy to overhear things, you know. You learn the places that make money and the ones not worth the trouble. You all are drawn to the bright lights. Those bedroom communities are where it’s at. Lots of comfortable old money out there.” 

You looked over at M’Baku. “I stumbled into your life, love. But it became another one of those opportunities. It’s been hell these months pretending to be afraid and powerless. Letting scummy bitches like this even breath the same air as me. But you were worth it.”

It seemed as if he wanted to say something, but pride and what you could assume was a little fear stopped him. You jostled your body until you were able to pressed a fingertip to the circular charm bracelet dotting your wrist. The tiny microphone glowed to life. 

“Okoye? It’s time.”

You smiled widely as the door swung open and a dagger made a direct path from the entrance into Charles’ chest. He dropped you, clutching at the steel as he fell beside you on the floor. The shock in the room gave M’Baku the opportunity to fire a perfect shot into Harrington’s gut. You knew he wanted a few more words. He could have them. Once unbound, you rose to your feet, approaching the seething M’Baku slowly. Okoye and N’Jadaka eyed each other in the distance. 

His hands cupped your face, angling it to assess the damage. He looked completely disconnected. You pressed your hand to his chest. “Come back to me, okay?” 

It took a moment, but he did. He focused on you as if he’d never seen you before. Something tore from his throat and he pressed you back into the room you’d been locked in. The door reverberated as he slung it closed. Before the sound could finish echoing, your sight was muted by the fabric being tugged over your head. He lifted you onto a metal table in the darkness. Hot hands, slightly trembling, ghosted over your torso. He was worshipping you, but you knew beneath his desire was fear. 

His mouth found each bruise and scrape. He suckled and licked at you until it seemed he was satisfied he’d found them all. You helped M’Baku tug the jeans from your hips and his own clothing from his frame. He pressed his forehead to yours, his breath was heavy. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He questioned as his finger blazed a path from your thigh to between your legs. You hissed as he set them in motion. 

“Umoya is a ghost. No need for my face to be attached to any of this.”

“That’s not an answer.” He looped one of your legs over his forearm. The bruise on your tailbone caught fire. 

“Because I wanted to use you. I changed my mind.” Your fingers grasped his sex jutting between you. “You forgive me?”

M’Baku positioned your other leg opposite its twin. You were open before him for only a moment before he stretched and filled you. You braced for him to pound into you, but he didn’t. He moved achingly slow, peppered you with kisses. It caught you off-guard. You clung to him, some of your resolved finally crumbling. 

“I forgive you, Umoya.” 

“Good. Now fuck me so we can get back to business.”  
***  
The blood pooling and clotting around the man clutching his abdomen pulled you back from the haze of lovemaking. Gathering the gun M’Baku had dropped several feet away you made a steady approach. He mouthed something, his lips crimson. You shook you head and aimed. The shot ricocheted in the small space. It felt good watching the light extinguish in Harrington’s eyes. Passing the Glock back to M’Baku, he tucked it back at the small of his back. 

“Okoye? Bring the car around. It’s money night and we have an empire to build,” you ordered as you ignored N’Jadaka’s raised eyebrow and finished adjusting your clothing. The woman who’d been protecting you since the beginning let a sly grin loose before pulling him from the room with her. 

You extended your hand towards M’Baku and waited for him to take it. You wanted to chuckle at the admiration shining from his features. You wiggled your fingers. “Come on, baby boy. I don’t have all night. The city calls.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended Listening: I Will Go to War by Tessa Thompson, Time Tick by Tessa Thompson, As of Late by Insightful, Omens by James Blackburn, Diva by Beyonce, Walk Thru by Rich Homie Quan, The Let Out by Jidenna, The World is Yours by Nas, Element by Kendrick Lamar, Midnight by Tessa Thompson and Gunna, Straight Shooter by Tabi Bonney, You Got Me by The Roots, and Cristo Redentor by Donald Byrd

_“Doesn’t make sense, but it makes dollars. And I wanna spend it all with you. Against the world, but I with you. I will go to war.”_

Adjusting his eyes to the dimmed lights of the loft took a moment and M’Baku was impatient. Each press of his foot against the dark stained floors was nearly silent, but he was still straining to make out any sound of life at the end of the hallway. The kick of the air conditioning whooshing to life set off a chill across his naked flesh. 

He’d awaken moments ago to the same cold, Umoya’s body not where it belonged beside him. He’d quashed a jolt of anger as his palm had opened and contracted against the sheets, expecting to find a breast or a belly to curl around. He’d found neither and he’d sluggishly pulled his body from the bed to go in search of the woman he was craving. 

Even after a year, M’Baku was still unable to fully control his need to possess her. She bucked against his constraints more than once, especially now that he knew she was nothing to trifle with. Still, M’Baku wasn’t ignorant to the light in her eyes when he flexed his possession or when she willingly let him have his way. It was an odd balance between them. 

A faint light spilling from the open doorway to his left pulled a wicked grin from the corners of his mouth. He approached as quietly as he could. The city would be coming fully to life soon. He could tell by the purple bruise of dawn framed in the windows of the kitchen. Haloed in the yellowed light of the open refrigerator, Umoya’s bronzed skin shone against the white, racer back bra and matching panties. A glass of water, slick with condensation, balanced in one hand while she spoke confidently into the phone. She closed the icebox and propped a hip against the counter. 

“I need 3.5 mil moved today from Account Alpha to Island Zed. Also, check stock prices for those holdings across the bridge. Anything with more than a 5% drop offload at whatever profit you can. I need the monthly income flow and expense sheets to my secondary email in the next thirty minutes.” 

M’Baku felt something in both his loins and his heart stir. The cool dominance in her voice did something to him. It made his blood run hot, made him want her more then he normally did. He came behind her, pressing his arousal against her before leaning down to nip her earlobe. 

“Hang up the phone.” It wasn’t a request. 

Umoya held one slim finger aloft, its white paint gleaning, and mouthed one moment. 

M’Baku bit the column of her neck. “Hang up the phone, Moya.” 

She pecked his cheek briefly with a smile. 

“Also, I need a detailed breakdown of each property and any shorts or overages in their payments.” 

Umoya let out a clipped gasp as M’Baku removed the phone from her hand and tapped the screen to end the call. Before she could fully protest, he rotated her body, arching her over the counter until she squirmed from the cool marble gliding beneath her chest. 

He let his hands roam over the cotton sheathing the portions of her body he wanted access to. One pass of his large palms pressed the fabric of the sports bra up and over her breasts, made the perfect leverage he’d use in a moment. M’Baku took time rolling the panties from her hips. He bent to slide them down Umoya’s legs, stopping to lick, bite, and admire the thickness of her hips and ass. All of it his. 

“I was in the middle of something, you know?” Her words came out a purr, honeyed and indulgent in a way that made him know she was his for the taking. 

She arched into him, the friction of their bare flesh making M’Baku hiss and grip tightly onto her hips. Umoya moved her lower half like infinity. His grip increased until he held her still. 

“And I told you to hang up the phone,” he growled at her before bending down to press the weight of his chest against her back. 

She arched into him again, waiting for the warmth of his lips along her spine. He shifted his feet between hers until he had ample room to breach into her. Then and only then did he give her the pleasure of his mouth making a path from her ear to her shoulders and then the valley of her back until he was fully standing and gathering a fistful of the white fabric clinging to her. 

“You don’t tell me what to do, Bayo.” He could read the challenge in her voice. It always seemed to come down to this, a battle of wills until one of them was sated. 

“I don’t?” He snapped his hips and enjoyed the jiggle of her flesh reverbing into his. “I’m quite certain I do and you like it.” 

She held her tongue, instead bouncing back onto him and chasing her own release. M’Baku accepted her challenge. His hold on the fabric increased until he was using it to anchor her to his chest while he plunged into and withdrew from her. If she didn’t want to speak? He’d pull out something other than words. The sloppy sounds of their bodies meeting built into the growing morning light. When he dug a hand into her hair and angled her face towards his, M’Baku took pleasure in the tight close of her eyes and the way she rolled her bottom lip between her teeth. The small vibrations of her moans belied her defiance. She may not of heard herself, but he relished in every ripple of sound escaping her. 

He could feel the cracks in her resolve multiplying. First it was the slender hand reaching back to press against his abdomen. Then the way that same hand gripped his wrist tightly and then the coil of her body dissolving into a series of tremors. He felt her break into orgasm and was impressed when she didn’t cry out. He pushed her into another one with slower strokes and finally into a third that finally pushed a wispy _fuck_ from between her lips. 

“Happy Anniversary, Ghost. It’s money night.”

***  
Power, when held absolutely, can corrupt. Power, when shared, can build an empire. Umoya and M’Baku were on their way to doing just that. They were also learning that fear came along with power and fear was one of the greatest motivators known to man. Where that motivation fell was another story. Sometimes, that fear pressed foes together against a common enemy. The two of them were anything but common but they were shining examples of what every criminal element wanted to achieve. The targets on their backs may have been gilded, but they were there as bold as day.

“Your problem, my dear heart, is that you rely on intimidation to be obeyed.”

“And it’s worked very well, love.” His sarcasm was thick and it annoyed Umoya. 

“What works is fear.” She raised the delicate flute of rose towards him to make her point. “Of the unknown, that is. It’s what I had going for me until now. Before you…” she let her words trail into the quiet of the dimly lit room they filled with their energy. 

M’Baku’s phone lit to life in his hand and he studied it for a moment. “I need to make a call. Handle the last one?”

“I got it. Go.” She accepted the press of his lips against her forehead and let her gaze follow the powerful movement of his body until it was out of view. She loved that man. 

The lounge, now re-named Specter, was the perfect location for both of them. Just off the bridge for Umoya’s convenience and near the bright lights of the city center for M’Baku’s comfort, they’d settled into the routine of transitioning money night into a central bank. Forcing people to come to them made things cleaner, but it also made Umoya uneasy. Before now, she’d been a whisper among those on a need to know basis. Now, she was becoming solid. And the more people knew her face, the more she wanted to slink back into the shadows for everyone’s safety. There would never be another kidnapping because Umoya would strike down anyone who even looked at her the wrong way before that could even become a possibility.

But for now she was bored. She nodded her head slightly as yet another person approached her booth trailed tightly by Okoye. She could spy N’Jadaka posted at the door in the distance. While his hands were crossed casually across his waist, Umoya knew the location of each and every weapon concealed on his person as well as how deadly he could be with his hands. And that was speaking nothing of how efficient Okoye was with snuffing out a problem. Umoya could close her eyes and know without seeing a single bank note the count was correct. N’Jadaka made sure of that. In fact, she could sit there all night not spending a single ounce of her energy worrying about something being out of place or incorrect and that worried her. It was too comfortable and it bred complacency and that lead to trouble. 

These table meetings were a formality, a little face to face intimidation deemed necessary by M’Baku’s old way of doing business. If it were up to her, Umoya would change that very soon. Next to her, beneath the heavy linen tablecloth, the oxblood leather briefcase was at nearly capacity with cash. It was the sixth time one of them had been filled that evening. One more drop-off and they were done for the night. 

For as well as she handled herself, it still grated Umoya’s nerves when some of the newer clients thought she was simply a pretty face for M’Baku’s business. It had been a year, and while she’d yet to flex her anger, it was getting closer and closer to the surface. The man approaching her now was a habitual line stepper. He seemed to take pleasure in forgetting even if she was only a front for M’Baku’s cash, the man who controlled the city was not one to take kindly to the flirtation delivered with each envelope heavy with payment. 

As he sat, Umoya balanced her champagne flute between her fingers. The sweet liquid made her skin warm, her limbs looser. She took a final sip and placed the glass atop the crisp linen. Her white nail tapped the base of the fine crystal. She instinctively blanked her face as the man settled into his seat. His scent was overpowering. 

“You wore that cologne again.” She could barely keep the disgust from her voice. 

“I saw how much you liked it last time. Figured it would spark a good memory or two,” he chuckled out then licked his lips. He positioned his arms on the table until his watch caught the light and it sparkled. He tented his fingers to show off the dual pinky rings, each a circle of diamonds around the stumpy digits. 

Umoya wanted to retch. Men like him thought overt displays of wealth were impressive. She yearned to inform him the very classic black pumps neatly arranged next to the briefcase likely cost more than his entire suit and the very understated watch encircling her wrist put his entry level “luxury” to shame. 

“I distinctly remember telling you I did not care for it. In fact, I believe I informed you it made me want to vomit.” Umoya outstretched her hand for the envelope and the weight she’d come to expect from it. “Money?”

The man, known as Brix if her memory was correct, thumped the vessel onto the table between them. The disrespect clouded the edges of Umoya’s vision. 

“Imma let you know this, sweetheart. Next time? I’m gonna meet with Mr. Adebayo. A pretty thing like you can offer so much more than this.”

“I highly suggest…”

“Suggest you let me fuck you?” One hand snaked beneath the table, traveled its way to the thickness of her thigh. She tensed, her eyes widening as she tilted her head. 

Somewhere in the distance Umoya heard the heavy steps of N’Jadaka approaching. It took a split second, but she came back to her senses quickly. Her fingers gripped the flute, crashed it the edge of the table before slashing towards the man whose hand had started a squeeze and release of her flesh. The broken edge of the glass caught his cheek, a spurt of blood pulsing forward and splattering the table. Quicker than he could reach into his jacket, Umoya pressed the jagged flute to his throat. He howled and bucked from the table, flipping it over as he rose. It knocked Umoya off balance, her body toppling to the floor along with the man she was now intent on killing. 

***  
“I don’t need you to save me,” Umoya spat out. “Stay back!” 

M’Baku watched her press the broken glass deeper into Brix’s neck before he trained his eyes on the man’s hand gripping a gun tightly at his side. Even the trickles of blood pooling from his skin did not loosen his grip. 

M’Baku had ended his phone call, one that informed him Umoya’s gifts had arrived, and stepped back into chaos. The briefcase was overturned, bills spilling from its interior, and Umoya was wild eyed. She was using what he could see was barely restrained strength to dig the jagged edge of the flute into the flesh before her. He’d approached cautiously, hands raised until he removed his own weapon from its hiding place. 

“Moya, he’s not going anywhere. Just drop the glass.” 

She screwed her face into a scowl. “This motherfucker just put his hands on what you claim belongs to the great Mr. Adebayo and you’re negotiating with me? Are you out of your fucking mind?” 

M’Baku growled. She knew that pushed his buttons. He flexed and unflexed his fingers on his own weapon. N’Jadaka hovered just behind him. Okoye flanked her counterpart, her preferred blade gripped tightly in her hand. None of them wanted the coward to leave alive, but M’Baku certainly didn’t want Umoya caught in the crossfire because of her anger. 

“Sweetheart, you’ve scared him enough. ‘Daka and I can handle it from here.”

His eyes met the skittish man sprawled on the floor next to her. “Look at me,” he barked. “Before you could even think of pulling that trigger, I’d splatter your brain on that wall over there.” 

M’Baku gestured with the barrel of his own weapon before adjusting the dark gray wool encasing his legs and crouching in front of the duo. Broken glass ground to dust beneath the heels of his boots. He bounced on the balls of his feet for a moment before setting his eyes to dark. 

“The last men who dared touch her are no longer among the living. Now, I really didn’t want to get my hands dirty today, but you leave me no choice. How you leave this place is of your choosing. Top or bottom?”

He watched the stark confusion flicker across the man’s face. 

“I asked you a question. Top or bottom?”

M’Baku lazily looked at his watch, let a few seconds tick by before he brought his steely stare back to Brix. 

“Top.” 

The response sounded more like a question, but M’Baku accepted it. He tapped three fingers against the man’s unmarked cheek. “Good boy.”

The cock of M’Baku’s gun only echoed a fraction of a second before the shot cycled the short distance between the barrel and the man’s skull. Brix slumped against Umoya, her face more annoyed than shocked. M’Baku rose to his full height and extended his hand towards her. She rose without taking it.

“Such a goddamn showoff. I had it,” she spat out, wiping streaks of blood off her face. “Why you insist on such macho displays is beyond me.” 

M’Baku trailed her steps towards the galley kitchen of the lounge. He came to a stop behind her as she blotted a wet dish towel over her cheeks and forehead. 

“Macho displays? I’m sure it was your feminine wiles that were about to slit the man’s throat with a champagne glass.” 

The sharp cut of her eyes ended his laughter quickly. 

“If I had murdered him? It was for good reason. He touched me without permission. Remember this very clearly, Bayo, I belong to me. You only have the privilege of touching me because I allow it.” 

M’Baku recoiled briefly before stepping forward. She pressed a hand against his chest. 

“Sex isn’t the answer for all of our conflicts. I have a meeting, but now I need to go change because of your antics.”

M’Baku watched her saunter out of the kitchen, the anger roiling off of her. 

“What about our anniversary? Your gifts are in the lounge!”

Umoya paused and glanced over her shoulder at him. “Once you wash the blood off them come find me.”  
***

“You do understand he does things such as that because he cares.” 

Okoye’s voice broke through Umoya’s thoughts. She’d been glancing down at the slip of cardstock in her hand for the last five minutes. A neatly scripted C was embossed on the heavy weave. A time was printed below it. 

“He does it because he wants to prove to every man who even looks at me he has a bigger dick.” 

Okoye snickered. “And you like it. Do not deny your affinity for the penis and the problematic man attached to it.” 

The two of them dove into laughter and Umoya was grateful for it. She’d been on edge for weeks. 

“Do you plan to tell him soon? I never understood how the two of you manage to stay together with the sheer number of secrets between you.” 

“In due time. Let’s get this out of the way for now and then I’ll work out the rest.” 

She waited patiently for the vehicle to come to a stop before exiting in front of a craftsman style home deep into the suburbs ringing the city. A neat half circle of cars and trucks were already parked out front.

“Looks like we’re the last to arrive,” she sneered. This didn’t bode well for the meeting and she knew it.

Straightening her shoulders, Umoya mounted the porch alone and twisted the brass knob. To the untrained eye this was just another book club. The neat stack of identical tomes on the entryway table, the delicate teacups and wineglasses, and the preppy patterned dresses would have fooled anyone. She gathered a book into her hand along with a glass of water and made her way to the group of women perched in a picture-perfect living room. 

“Ladies,” she greeted as she crossed one ankle over the other. “Am I late?” 

Umoya made sure to make eye contact with each of them before sipping her water and placing it on a teak coaster. The oldest of them, seated in an overstuffed wingback chair, smiled at her weakly. 

“Not at all, dear. We arrived early. We had a pressing matter to discuss. That matter being you.”

Umoya bristled and bit her tongue. She had to remember where she was. “And what discussion was had?” 

“One in which we needed to discern whether or not you still have a need, or desire, to be a part of The Collective.” 

The Collective. This group of women from every walk of life and background had been her eyes, ears, protection, and sisterhood since she’d crossed into the very illegal territory she found herself quite skilled at. Each of them represented a city, a suburb, a neighborhood and varying levels of power. Umoya may have been at the top of her game, but that game had started somewhere. That somewhere was Georgia, the very non-descript grandmother figure smiling at her sweetly with murder in her eyes. 

“I wasn’t aware that was up for discussion. May I ask why?” Umoya stuffed the book into her shoulder bag, well aware its pages held meeting notes, crew rosters, and other need to know information. 

“You’ve been MIA, dear. How many meetings have you missed? Two? Three?” 

“In ten years. I’m confused about how that makes me any less devoted to our causes.” 

“And that, love, brings us to why you are here. For the last year, I’ve indulged your dalliance with Mr. Adebayo. It brought you additional revenue, but it also gave us an inside track into his dealings.”

Umoya didn’t like where this was going.

“But now? The two of you are your own collective. And please do not get me started on your refusal to be a supplier to the boroughs any longer. His honor has rubbed off on you, has it?” 

Umoya cursed internally. Harrington had almost ruined her. Had M’Baku ever taken him up on his offer to dabble in drug sales, they would have crossed paths in a different way. She hadn’t wanted to tell him she was the one who’d been on the verge of cutting a very lucrative deal with the man he’d been rebuffing for years. Her reputation as a ghost had been the thing to save her from both of them. 

“You and that man are building a fortress in the city to the detriment of your smaller sisters. How do you think their bottom lines are impacted when you refuse to provide product and he intimidates the dealers?” 

Georgia rose from her seat, the crack of her knees popping in the silence. Every eye in the room trailed her movements towards Umoya. 

“So, I’ll give you two weeks to break it off with him and get back to business. That’s more than enough time to feign some emotional female bullshit that will get him to back away from you. Is that understood, my love?” 

Umoya glared up at Georgia. She knew the underlying threat. Leave him or lose him. 

“You don’t have to answer now. We’ll see you at the next meeting.” 

***  
Of all the things M’Baku loved about Umoya one of them was her taste in music. Whatever the mood, whatever the time, she had a soundtrack. Tonight, the saxophone and piano melding together were melancholy. It fit the mood of the loft, connected in theory but somehow worlds apart. The two of them had been drifting for the better part of a week, ghosting by each other and avoiding the chasm between them. For the last three nights, M’Baku had stared up at the ceiling vacillating between rage and sadness. Umoya wasn’t where she belonged and it didn’t seem like she was coming back. Pride made him fall back from her, giving her the space her actions seemed to be screaming for. 

M’Baku tapped the heavy pen against his palm in time with the music. Letting his eyes drift closed, he wanted to hone in on some sense of calm, but that wasn’t to be. When he returned his gaze to the space around him, he took in all his money had purchased and saw the shadow of blood painting it. He fixed himself a drink and wandered down the hallway in search of the music and the woman controlling it on repeat. 

The smooth sting of alcohol warmed his chest as it went down, but M’Baku didn’t feel it. Instead, he was watching Umoya from the doorway of the living room. She was bundled on the sofa, looking out over the city lights. She’d been there since she’d arrived home several hours before. When questioned, she said she had a lot on her mind and refused to say anything else. 

He was tired of it. For nearly two weeks, she’d left at the crack of dawn and returned well into the night. When he touched her, she flinched and found ways to distance herself. He missed holding her against his chest as they slept. Hell, he missed butting heads with her. His Umoya was now a contemplative shell of who he knew. 

“Moy?” He noted the sad rise and fall of her chest, the quick swipe of her hand across her cheek. 

“When are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” He swirled the liquor and ice around the heavy glass as he approached. 

He took a seat next to her and felt a pang of hurt when she shifted away from him. He downed his drink and slid the glass onto the coffee table. 

“What’s wrong is I need you to get out. Tonight.” The wineglass in her hand was gripped tightly in her fist. She downed the last of the red liquid and placed the vessel next to his drained one. 

Her eyes never broke from the skyline. When he reached for her, she slapped his hand away. M’Baku’s anger flared and he gripped her upper arms, dragged her into his lap. 

“No.” The word was final, unmoving as her stare just beyond his shoulder. 

She didn’t answer, didn’t move, and didn’t meet his eyes until a grip on her chin forced her to. Her eyes were blank.

“Why?” 

“You’re weighing me down. I can’t move the way I want. I can’t breathe.” Her voice was shaky and didn’t sound the least bit convincing. 

“Can’t breathe?” 

A hand culled around her throat. He felt her hesitate, then felt her swallow before she leaned forward to sample his mouth. For the briefest of moments, M’Baku flashed back to her declaration that sex was not the answer for their issues. But the feel of her mouth against his, sweet with wine, was too much for him to resist. He angled his head to get a better taste and lost himself. He’d worry about what was troubling her in due time, but for now he needed to get a small portion of what he’d been missing the last two weeks. 

His hands slid beneath the heathered and slouched sweatshirt falling from her shoulders. Deft fingers arched and scratched down her back, wanting to mark her, wanting to bring her back to him fully. M’Baku heard the pleasure she tried to stifle and reversed the path until the shirt lifted from her body and found a home somewhere in the darkness across the room. He let his hands roam as if he were trying to remember each bit of her. Umoya did the same, for the first time her eyes showing some signs of life. That small spark set M’Baku’s heart at ease. At least he had some hope to hold onto. 

Umoya’s smooth hands settled on either side of his face. She used pressure to move his mouth where she wanted and M’Baku allowed her dominance. He would not deny her what she needed in the moment. Power shared was power kept, he mused as she sank down onto him and set her hips into motion. 

***  
Umoya allowed M’Baku to cull her into his arms, stepping backwards with his body until the gritty bricks of the building dug into her shirt. She was angry that he hadn’t listened, but could never deny the electricity she felt when he unfolded his body from his truck and started purposefully towards her. 

“I woke up and you were gone,” he said, lips hovering just above hers. She could feel the warmth of his breath, smell the mint she’d become so accustomed to. “That’s not playing fair.”

“I asked you to leave. You didn’t, so I made a decision.”

He pressed against her mouth tentatively, waited for her to melt into him before deepening the kiss. When he did, it was as if all of the air rushed out of her body. A scant twenty-four hours had elapsed and she was craving him as if it had been weeks. Their lower bodies connected like magnets, arms circling each other like a knot. Umoya pulled away before she got too deep.

“This is over, Bayo. This is where we end.” _The same place where they began._  
  
The heady taste of M’Baku’s mouth was still setting her heart a flutter by the time Umoya realized her mistake. Too open, too public, too close to the deadline. The metallic glint of the sleek car across the street was not unknown to her. She knew exactly who and what it was. She watched in slow motion as the window slid from closed to open. The same saccharine sweet smile she’d stomached at the Collective meeting beamed at her from the passenger seat. The wrinkled hand bent in a wave. 

“Bayo, you gotta get out of here. Now!” 

“I’m not going anywhere, Moy. I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I know this isn’t my usana.”

She pressed all of her weight against him. “I told you to stay the fuck away from me! I don’t want you. What part of that don’t you get?” She hoped her words carried across the street, would stop what she knew was on the cusp of happening. But her heart still crumpled just as his face did. 

“Umoya…” 

Okoye’s calling of her name was a warning, one that whipped her head towards the silvery vehicle once more. This time the passenger side window was returned to position, but the back window now gaped open with a barrel extending into the street. With everything in her, Umoya pushed M’Baku backwards into the foyer. He gripped onto her, spinning their bodies as the shots rang out. 

***

The shots were muffled. Or perhaps it was the ringing of the explosions in the closed space. Whatever it was, M’Baku couldn’t hear, but he could feel the warm slickness of blood between his fingers as he pressed his hand to his chest. He looked down at the wound and then up to Umoya who was scrambling to her feet, screaming as she rose. He could tell she was calling his name, his view of her shrinking as he sank to her rising. M’Baku saw the blur of a car fishtailing up the block, dodging N’Jadaka’s final shots as he ran towards his boss. 

Before his knees hit the ground, Umoya’s arms were bracing beneath his as she struggled with his weight. Her mouth was moving, as was N’Jadaka’s and Okoye’s. The solidness of the floor was beckoning M’Baku. He just needed to rest for a bit. He felt control of his limbs waning and let the slip of darkness take over. 

 

***  
“Breathe through it! Do you hear me, Bayo!” His nickname slipped out easily, a small hope it would anchor him to the present and her. 

Umoya pressed her hands as tightly as she could against the wound bubbling blood just off center in his chest. The white dress shirt was nearly soaked though and she took a moment to remove the pressure of her body weight to assess the damage. The buttons gave way easily in her grip, popping and scattering to the four corners of the vehicle’s interior. The wound was small, raw at the edges, but Umoya wasn’t the least bit deceived by its size. She knew the carnage that lay below the surface was immense. 

He was still warm, solid beneath her palms, but she could see the light starting to shift in his eyes. Umoya cupped his cheek in one hand. His skin stained crimson. “Please, Bayo. Please! We’re almost there. ‘Daka! How much longer?” 

She caught his eye in the rearview mirror and could read the concern even if he was doing his best to remain neutral. He signaled five minutes and she returned her attention back to man rapidly bleeding out beneath her. She pressed her weight as heavily as she could, damn near splaying her body atop his. M’Baku’s breathing came in shallow bursts. It rasped between his lips in a way that frightened her more than anything else she’d ever heard. And when he coughed and his lips and teeth stained, Umoya let out a strangled moan before she could catch herself. 

_Be strong for him_ , she chastised internally. _Get him to help then go murder every one of those bitches._

The pitch and sway of the truck taking the corners of the city did not help her grip on M’Baku. Between the blood and the curves, he shifted beneath her until all she could do was cradle him to her. From her position on the floor, Umoya couldn’t make out landmarks. Where they were was only for God to know. 

“I need to know where we are!” she shouted to no one in particular. “Now!” 

Her voice was harsh, trembled as she directed her attention back to the man in her lap. He looked peaceful. A small smirk played on his bloodied lips. Umoya brushed the pad of her thumb across them. Their eyes locked and for a moment he tried to speak. 

“Shhh. We’re almost there, okay? I promise you’ll be fine.” 

He tried to speak again and a dry chuckle escaped Umoya. 

“Stubborn. You don’t listen! Why didn’t you listen to me?” 

If he’d just stayed away when she’d told him. Hadn’t tried to be a hero. _Her hero._ The pop of the gun wouldn’t stop echoing in her ears nor would the slow motion of M’Baku’s descent to the floor. Those things were etched into her memory now. There was no forgetting them, but there would be revenge. N’Jadaka maneuvered the truck around a final curve and the sudden stop jolted them all. He rounded the vehicle quickly, wrenching open the door and pulling M’Baku from her arms. They had to be a sight, three bloodied and well dressed people damn near dragging a giant into a non-descript building with blacked out windows and doors. 

The rack of M’Baku’s cough and labored breathing faded bit by bit as he was removed from her grasp and carried towards a set of double doors. She couldn’t feel anything, not even Okoye’s strong grasp on her arm leading her to a set of chairs at the mouth of the hallway. Umoya focused her eyes on those doors, refusing to look away for fear something would happen and she’d miss her chance to be at M’Baku’s side. She stared until her eyes hurt and she was forced to close them to stop the room from spinning. Umoya wanted to wash her hands, but leaving her seat directly across the hall from M’Baku’s room was not something she was willing to do. Instead, she rubbed them roughly across the fabric stretched across her thighs, pulling her palms to her face time and again until she could see some measure of her skin. There’d been so much blood that Umoya knew she wouldn’t feel clean for a very long time.

Umoya heard the quiet firmness of Okoye’s voice to her right and let herself curl towards her protector and best friend. It took only a moment for the dam to break inside her and a spate of warm tears to slip free. She let herself have those moments, knew that once she was able to be at his side her mask and steel spine needed to be in fully place.  
***

The first thing M’Baku knew was pain. From the moment his eyes opened, in a room of dimmed artificial light and the soft glow of the city outside, everything hurt. It felt as if there was an icy hand clutching his chest, releasing coldness and then somehow radiating fire to every point of his body. He shifted against the stiff pillowcase beneath his head. The sound echoed loudly in his ears as he slid his body to a better sitting position. His breath hissed from between his teeth until he was settled. He allowed himself a moment to quell the wave of nausea that overwhelmed him. He took stock of himself. An IV taped to the back of his hand. Oxygen tube secured into his nostrils. The steady beep of monitors somewhere above his head. M’Baku moved one hand tentatively towards his bare chest. He pressed his fingers gingerly against the bandage braced against it. It seemed to be his only wound and he said a quiet thanks to whatever deity that was listening. 

From his higher vantage point, he could make out Umoya curled onto a chaise at the foot of the bed. Her legs were tucked beneath her, her arms stacked as a pillow under her head. She was breathing deeply despite the furrow in her brow M’Baku knew all too well. She was troubled even in her sleep. M’Baku felt a shock of anger press through him at the sight of the blood splatter on her clothes. It dotted almost every portion of her frame he could see. Something akin to pride tried to settle in. He knew she hadn’t left him. He couldn’t be sure of how long it had been, but there she was. 

“She’s been here for two days.” N’Jadaka’s even voice came from somewhere to M’Baku’s left. 

M’Baku lifted a finger to his lips. “Don’t wake her.” His voice didn’t sound like his own. It was gravelly as it pushed from his dry throat. 

“She won’t. We tricked her into a sedative. The woman’s stubborn as you.” 

N’Jadaka rose from a chair settled into a dark corner of the room and approached. Unlike Umoya, he was clean and dressed in fresh clothing. Albeit much more casual than M’Baku was used to. 

“None of us wanted to leave,” N’Jadaka groused as he followed M’Baku’s gaze to the long sleeve tee and joggers. “I had a gym bag in the truck. Ghost wouldn’t leave even to clean up.” 

N’Jadaka poured a measure of water from a pitcher and handed it to M’Baku. He waited for his boss to down it before continuing. 

“Doc says you’ll be here for at least a week. Security is doubled at the lounge. Word is out on the street that whoever claims this is to be brought to us alive.” 

M’Baku sneered and slammed the cup onto the bedside table. He took as deep of a breath as he could. “I want that bastard’s head clean and clear. No one touches them except me. Is that understood?” 

N’Jadaka nodded tightly. 

“I don’t know what it is, but people have become way too comfortable with me. First Charles and Harrington? Now this? I’ve been too clean, Daka. That ends now.”

N’Jadaka grunted. “I don’t think this has anything to do with you.” He nodded towards Umoya. “I’m hearing your lady has some troubles of her own. You’re collateral damage.”

***  
Umoya woke by degrees at the soft calling of her name. She felt groggier than she normally did when she awoke and she was positive Okoye and N’Jadaka had something to do with it. While she appreciated their care, she was terrified something had changed with M’Baku and she had been dead to the world. However, there was still the steady beeps of monitors and her heart relaxed a bit. Every few seconds she could make out the wispy hiss of oxygen. Another knot left her chest. Finally, the sound of skin against sheets. He was there. Moving, alive, and there. 

She rose slowly and planted her feet on the floor, stretched like a cat until she heard her bones crack. Her clothes felt stiff against her skin. Blood. Two day old blood, she reminded herself. She heard her name again. This time it was a bit louder, but it was weak. Blindly she moved towards him, coming to rest at the side of his bed, his smile beaming at her from below. 

Pressing a hand to his shoulder, Umoya leaned in to kiss him. She didn’t care about the tangle of breathing tubes or the mess of IV lines that made their bodies hover instead of connect. She just needed to feel him. She wanted to crawl onto him, curl against his body until she felt steady again. But she wore the reminder of how close she’d come to losing him and pulled away. 

“My love?” he rumbled. 

“I’m bloody. Can’t risk an infection.”

“My bloody valentine,” he joked. “I don’t care. Come here.” 

He shifted his body until she was able to arch around his. It was far from ideal, but she could feel his warmth and the solid pressure of his hand against her hip. Umoya wanted to cry. She’d never seen him weak, never wanted to again. And it was all squarely on her shoulders. 

“This is all my fault.”

“It’s not,” he offered, his thumb drifting across the back of her hand. “I have a range full of targets on my back.”

“This was a special one, though. A warning to me.” 

Confusion lit his face as he waited for an explanation. Umoya avoided looking at him, instead opting to focus on the highway in the window’s distance. The cars were tiny, childlike, and a part of her wished she was in one on the way to somewhere far away. 

“I was Harrington’s connect. I didn’t know he was trying to cut a deal with you.” 

Silence.

“I am…was a supplier for most of the boroughs. I stopped when we…”

She didn’t know how to finish the sentence. They had been something, but his silence had her doubting it was anything more than a memory now. She ached for him to say something, to yell or push her away. She felt his disappointment and it felt like a knife directly through her heart. 

***

“Moy, please, don’t do this.”

Pain seared through M’Baku as he moved to a sitting position. His eyes shut for a moment as he got his bearings. He watched her pause in the doorway, caught a pinched expression pass between her and Okoye. Her fist balled and unfurled at her side. When Umoya turned to him her movements were slow. She looked powerful, clad in black with her eyes set hard. He swore he saw them softening as she propped a hip atop his bedside. She palmed his cheek.

“I have to. If not for you, for me.”

In the midst of his silence, she’d spilled her life in The Collective, how she’d forged her own path without them, M’Baku at her side. That decision, and her weeks of coldness towards him, were to save him. But they’d missed and she was a woman scorned with the power and fire to burn all of it to the ground. She’d slunk away to nurse the hurt he’d bestowed upon her. When she’d returned, there was a passion in her eyes that was unlike anything he’d ever seen. 

M’Baku had tried to reason with her. He tried to reason with Okoye, but she knew where her loyalty lay. M’Baku had pushed Umoya to this. His silence, his refusal to ease her shame, had set her plan in motion. His Ghost was gunning for the very woman who helped her become as powerful as she was. Not an easy task. 

“Please. Not alone, Moy. Let me get out of here and the four of us…”

“Not your battle, Bayo. I have my team. I have my plan. The Collective has its place, just not in my personal life. I’ll see you, love,” she said with a slight waver in her voice, the door closing quietly behind her. 

***  
Umoya slunk down in the seat, her forehead prickled with heat from anger. Her cloud of hair circled her head in a goddess braid, an easy way to keep things neat for when every other bit of her came apart. It was evening, just as the suburbs were turning down for the night, and she was restless. It had been hours of sitting in a non-descript Volvo at the end of the block, watching the arrivals of The Collective for their monthly meeting. She could make out the faint sounds of music wafting from the radio and tried to hone in on it to calm her nerves. It didn’t work. Her leg bounced, her fingers beating a rhythm into her kneecap.

Pastel painted trucks carrying pastries had come and gone along with the delivery of the month’s books. Nothing ever changed and that’s why it was so cleverly concealed. Ladies of leisure were boring so the routine never caused a second glance among the monied neighborhood.

“What’s the plan?” Okoye asked as she ran her blade along a whetting stone.

“Kill the head and the body shall die,” Umoya mumbled.

The creak of leather signaled Okoye’s turn towards her. “You’re taking out Georgia? You don’t think the rest of them are going to come at you full force? M’Baku was your warning.”

“Then they should have made sure the job was done. All that did was piss me off.”

Umoya knew that was a lie. It had nearly broken her. She’d fought sleep and hunger for two days while waiting to make sure he was out of the woods. She wanted to be able to shake the fear that had snaked into her heart as she scrubbed his blood from her hands. Watching him, prone and pale, had sparked a level of rage she had never felt once she was able to pull herself out of the funk of grief. Now everything Umoya saw was red, crimson and hot with revenge.

“Assume we get out of there alive, how far would you have to go to get away from them?”

“I’m not going anywhere. They’ll fall into line or they’ll need to worry about how fast and how far they need to run from me.” 

Okoye held her gaze for a moment, the blade now gleaming sharp. 

“What do you need me to do?” 

***  
M’Baku’s heart stilled as the G-Wagon swung onto the block. The sun was low in the sky, barely visible above the rise of trees and rooftops. The houses were neatly plotted, each seemingly more cookie cutter than the next. It felt as if he had stepped into the Twilight Zone. Something in his head told him that this place was infinitely more dangerous than any other he’d ever darkened with his presence. The familiar weight at the base of his spine, along with the presence of the man at his side, let him know there was a fighting chance he’d find Umoya with only a little skin off his back.

“That’s the one,” N’Jadaka said as he pointed to the robin’s egg blue home in the center of the block. “Okoye says it’s two stories, steel doors, a lookout in the house across the street.”

M’Baku was grateful for Okoye’s intel. She’d informed N’Jadaka not long after her stakeout with Umoya had begun. Prudent, and more than willing to do whatever it took to keep her boss safe, the woman was indispensable. M’Baku moved his eyes slowly from his target to its twin mirroring it from across the lane. He mulled for a moment. “You take the lookout. Umoya’s over there,” he growled as he drew his weapon and checked the clip. 

“You up to that?” 

“Does it matter? I’m not letting her do this alone.” No other answer was acceptable. He’d checked himself out against doctor’s orders, willing to run on pure adrenaline until he could no longer. 

“Even after what she’s done? You don’t play that drug shit, Bak.”

M’Baku bristled. He didn’t. He may have been a criminal, a killer, and a thug, but pushing poison wasn’t his thing. The damage Umoya had done to the community was massive, but he wasn’t willing to throw her away. How that manifested? He wasn’t sure quite yet. 

“Take the lookout.”

M’Baku opened the door, his foot barely setting to the pavement before a shot pinged the hood of the truck. He dove back into the passenger seat. Pain blossomed across his sternum, torn sutures wept blood. The pop and ping of bullets picked up paced as N’Jadaka threw the vehicle into reverse and peeled down the block. It took several hundred feet, but the hail ended. Crouched low beneath the dash, M’Baku tried to find a target to fell. The street was empty. 

“Sniper. We gotta go. We’re still in range.” N’Jadaka started the truck into a slow roll to the entrance to the neighborhood. 

M’Baku held a hand aloft. He waited a few beats for the deluge of bullets to start again, waited for a singular shot to pierce the windshield. Nothing. 

“It was a warning. They want her, not us.” He cursed low and strong. How long before the police arrived? How long until they came across Umoya with a body under her belt or, worse yet, in the act of ending a life?

“The next block over?” he questioned to his right-hand man.

“Our target backs up to a golf course. Too open for stealth. Across the street is wooded, but the vegetation’s thick. ‘Koye said one way in and one way out. We wait.”

“Or we go in guns blazing.”

“Two black men. Running down the street in the suburbs shooting at a sniper no one can see? You want to bring the police even faster? We wait. I’ll give Okoye a ten-minute warning. Scanner is clear so far.”

***  
Umoya prided herself on stealth. It was the reason why she’d been able to position a small cadre of her trusted staff into the neighborhood on such short notice. The lot of them were in all in place. No one batted an eye at the new wave of nannies walking babies, gardeners tending to flowerbeds, or new music teachers. Sometimes black skin was the best disguise when the world didn’t want to see you. 

All Umoya needed was Georgia, alone and cowering. The rest could be handled without her. The women, the ones she kept a secret from everyone, were just as deadly as Okoye. They’d neutralize the personal security of the Collective members and clear the house as quickly as possible. Whatever blood had to be shed? So be it. 

“So, they know their orders?” she questioned of Okoye. 

“They are aware. Subdue. No killing unless absolutely necessary. Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

“I need you to try to take out the lookout if at all possible. I don’t want any crossfire if this spills out into the street.”

“Umoya…”

“Don’t get sentimental. This is like any other job. In and out.”

“Except we usually don’t work in revenge. Don’t get sloppy.”

Umoya gave a wry smile as she exited the vehicle into the night. “I’ll try. See you on the other side.” 

Slipping onto the back porch and into the kitchen of the home was easy enough. From the shadow of the mudroom, she could hear the murmur of voices, the closing of the front door, and then the scrape of shoes across the kitchen floor. 

“I know you’re here, love.” Georgia’s voice was sweet as ever. “Kudos on clearing the others.” She clapped sarcastically. “Decoy colored staff. I knew that skin could work to your advantage one of these days.”

From the darkness, Umoya sneered. Just how much of her soul had she sold by working with this woman, resting under her wings until she was strong enough to fly on her own? She pressed the door open enough to train the barrel of her gun out of the frame. When no shot came, she entered the kitchen fully. Had she not known better, she would have wanted to sit down and share a plate of freshly baked cookies with the woman standing before her in a peach dress and apron that looked as if she stepped directly out of the 1950s. The era would certainly match her racist ass, Umoya groused. 

“This is what we’ve come to? A gun trained on the woman who has given you so much?” 

“The same woman who tried to murder the man I love.”

“I gave you ample time to get rid of him. You chose not to comply. You needed punished. Reminded of your place.”

Umoya’s anger was white hot. She stepped forward before catching herself. She would not be baited. “My place? Do tell.” 

“Your place. One that is not equal to me. The Collective has been very good to you and I expect loyalty in return.”

“That loyalty, which I now see was misplaced, does not extend beyond our business dealings. M’Baku is not part of that.”

“Then think of him as a pawn. I needed you to heel, but that’s impossible. It is such a shame.”

Georgia took a seat at the heavy oak table in the center of the room. She sank into the chair slowly, her joints seemingly fighting her at every turn. Umoya watched her unstack and stack the fruit in the bowl in front of her. 

“I had such high hopes for you, Umoya. So very high.”

Something akin to fire settled into Umoya’s side. When she pressed her hand to the area, it came away bloody. She moved as quickly as she could, backed into the open pantry. 

“Fuck!” she hissed as she applied pressure to her abdomen. 

“You aren’t the only one with secrets, dear heart! How do you think I’ve survived this long? I am never alone!” 

The singsong of Georgia’s voice was grating. From her vantage point, Umoya could make out the cracked pane of glass directly behind the older woman. She’d taken a seat for a reason. A clear shot. Okoye hadn’t made it to the lookout, but Umoya refused to believe that meant anything other than the opportunity hadn’t presented itself. 

“Any other time I would reprimand you and move on. But I think it’s time we end our arrangement permanently.” 

Umoya needed to think. If she made her way back into the open space of the kitchen, she’d never make it out alive. And she didn’t have a clear shot at Georgia. She wasn’t leaving until that woman’s final breath. She applied an abundance of pressure to the wound to jolt herself out of the drifting she felt coming over her. Anger, irrational and distracting, made her volley a shot at one of the dangling Edison lights over the table. The pop of the shattering glass mingled with her breathing. Both were jagged. 

“Are you angry? Why don’t you come and die with honor? Go out the way you’ve lived.”

Umoya needed out of that room. It was a death trap even more than the kitchen. She leaned against the shelves, her fingers bumping against bags of flour and sugar. _Serpentine_ , she thought as she tested the weight of one of the bags in her hand. Five pounds, light enough to throw. Distract and get low was her plan. Umoya racked her brain trying to remember the kitchen’s layout. She needed a surface close enough to Georgia to create her diversion.

A moment later, she lobbed a bag of flour at the ceiling above the table with enough force for it to shatter and rain down over her target. The action took a large portion of her remaining energy, but she had no choice. The second bag landed on the floor with a puff upwards. The room clouded with whiteness giving Umoya the chance to drop to a crouch and make her way back to the mudroom door. A shot rang out in the fog and she heard Georgia scream. The woman clutched her shoulder, the red of her injury staining pink beneath her dusting. 

From her position on the floor, Umoya aimed as steadily as she could. The woman rising from the chair looked like a ghost, a smattering of flour coating her from the head down. She was furious, barking orders at a man making his way into the room. Umoya shifted her aim, firing in quick succession and dropping him. Now they were alone. 

She rose unsteady, almost tripping over her own feet. The gun felt heavy in her hand, but Umoya refused to give into the quickening darkness at the edges of her vision. She fired a short at the meaty thigh of the woman. Georgia buckled. 

“What were you saying about place?” she scowled. She was met with silence. 

“I respect your decision not to beg. I wouldn’t have either.” 

The recoil of the weapon sent Umoya to her knees once more. She sagged there, fighting unconsciousness until the last gurgle escaped the final concrete tie to her old life. 

***  
The figure in the distance became more and more solid as it approached, one arm swinging at its side limply and the other wrapped tightly around its waist. M’Baku would know those curves anywhere. Umoya, a bloodied and smiling Ghost who held his heart.

“Hey,” he smiled out at her as she came further up the block. He met her halfway, his chest swelling with pride and pain. 

“Hey,” she grimaced. 

“I’d be romantic, but we gotta go. Squad cars are two minutes out.”

Umoya moved towards him, her knees buckling slightly. “Okoye?” 

M’Baku jerked his head towards the battle-scarred vehicle. “She tried to call in reinforcements for you. Said something about never leaving your side again.” 

He accepted her weight against him, half dragging her to the backseat. She slumped into it heavily. M’Baku watched her eyes close and her breathing even. There would be time to talk later, but for now he kept silent as N’Jadaka helped them disappear into the night. Umoya leaned against him, seemingly floating between waking and dream. 

“We need to get your checked out,” he mumbled into her hair. He’d missed her scent. 

“And we need to checked you back in. I’m fine. Just a flesh wound.” 

She lifted her arm with a grimace, the black fabric of her shirt blossomed out and the brown expanse of her skin red with blood and wound. M’Baku pressed his hand to it to staunch the ooze of liquid. 

“This is how you felt? Afraid I was going to slip away from you?”

She nodded. “She tried to take you from me. You’re mine…”

Her words trailed off, her uncertainty clear and the blood loss slurring her words. M’Baku kept pressure on her ribcage, tried to quell his rising fear. He could feel his own pain, a steady throb in the center of his chest, but it didn’t matter. Umoya had killed for him. He’d done so for her on more than one occasion, but he’d never wanted her hands dirtied in this way. 

“I killed her, Bayo. The Collective is mine.” There was a lingering sense of pride in her words. It lasted only a moment before she let go.


	3. Part 3.5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended Listening: The entire Le Bon Voyage by Tabi Bonney
> 
> A/N: Almost a year ago I wrote a Winston fic that I took down after a bit of drama. I never deleted from my desktop file and it’s just been sitting there ever since. I took some of that and added it here since it fit my scene. Also, this a part of the third section because it is loooooong!

Island life wasn’t for M’Baku. Things moved too slowly, too hot and lazy for him to ever truly to be at ease. Something in his blood wanted the concrete and hustle of the city. Something in his heart wanted to see neon brightness bouncing off the streets and the crush of people who parted like the Red Sea whenever he turned his eyes dark. And more than anything, he missed the sounds of living that to some seemed like an annoyance but for him were like music. The click and clack of buses and trains were now the sounds of outboard motors ferrying passengers from one tiny island to the next. Instead of shouts for taxis, calls of fresh fruit and fish bounded from locals wanting to sell their wares. M’Baku had come to find the squeal and growls of city creatures faded into the trills of tropical birds and the gentle lap of the ocean against the shore.

Island life was beautiful, however. The way the sky turned shades of pink and gold then dipped into indigo over the ocean was a sight to behold. Three months of waking via balmy breezes and salty air had seeped just a bit into his spirit. Especially since those mornings found Umoya pressed against him beneath crisp sheets and billowing mosquito netting. This morning was another one of those. She was glowing against the white linen. As it had more times than he cared to admit over the last few months, M’Baku’s mind drifted back to her ashen and weak beside him. N’Jadaka had maneuvered the truck as quickly as he could to the same hospital M’Baku had walked out of and then it was his turn to wait at the end of the hallway until he could hover over her unconscious frame. That fear seemed a lifetime ago, but now and again it reared its head. He’d lingered over her until the color had returned to her skin and her eyes had fluttered open to lock with his. And then he’d whisked her away to heal. The both of them really. To heal from bullets and blood, but also the weight of the lies between them.

M’Baku squeezed the curve of waist beneath his arm just to feel its owner shift in her sleep and curl more deeply against him. The scent of her hair wafted back to him in all its glory. For as much as he missed the city, M’Baku loved this more. He loved the smell of her skin in the morning, a mixture of coconut and citrus oils that made her body feel like silk. Each morning he found his fingers tracing the scar now carved into her side, the memory of when the doctor’s scalpel had dug into her flesh to make her whole again. It angered him that the expanse of her was marred by such a violent thing. But violence was so intertwined in their lives it sometimes surprised him that its evidence wasn’t present on her frame even more. He nuzzled into her neck, hoping the vibration of his voice would shake her fully from sleep and bring her back to him.

“Moy,” he called softly against her nape. His large hand palmed her belly and swept across it’s rise and fall. “Moy, wake up.”

She groaned, something he’d gotten used to sleeping beside her for over a year. His sweetheart wasn’t a morning person. She much preferred the cover of night and the silence that came with it. He kissed the back of her ear.

“Wake up. The day calls.”

“No.” Her voice was thick. She pressed more tightly against him and burrowed her face into the pillow. “Eat without me.”

M’Baku returned a groan of his own and flipped her easily towards him. He watched the lazy pull of her eyes opening, marveled at how they seemed liquid when the light hit them. Love had changed him. Had made him more observant of things that revolved around more than money and power. Made him want to do more than see fear and respect. M’Baku wanted to see Umoya happy.

“You’re getting soft,” she croaked out at him.

She seemed to do that often, reading his thoughts and anchoring him back to the life they shared in all its bloody glory.

“Maybe I am. Now get up.”

He peppered her jawline with kisses just to hear her giggle. Yea. He was more than soft. He was melted.

M’Baku left a lingering kiss at the crux of her shoulder and rose from the bed. Crossing the room in a few long strides, he glanced back to see her frame looked like a ghost behind the netting. He stored this sight along with all the others before it and went to start his day.   
***

The sand was warm between Umoya’s toes. She sank into the heat with each step, amused at how the grains slipped over and through her feet. Rough and soft and warm, she slowed her steps to prolong the feeling. Above her, the sun was just making its ascent over their slice of the island. It prickled her skin and she could feel herself browning even more. It felt delicious and she was grateful to be away from the towering crowds of the city. She’d awaken three months ago as the private jet was landing on a small airstrip. Her last full memory had been of M’Baku gathering her into his arms and telling her when she awoke she would be in paradise. She’d cataloged the fear in his eyes as hers drifted closed into a sedative induced darkness.

M’Baku hadn’t been lying. Their villa was breathtaking, situated so closely to the water she could hear its roar and pull no matter the time of day. Each morning it glittered like jewels and each evening it was like ink pooling beneath the moon. Unlike the loft, their home away from home was brightly lit, full of air, billowing with linens and silks. He’d taken to caring for her straight away. He’d cooked and cleaned and doted until she was able to do everything on her own. Now they’d settled into routine and comfort. When she woke she knew there would be an arm slung protectively against her waist and the rumble of his voice in her ear. Umoya had come to crave it, need it, to fully come into her day. She was weak just as he was, but she dared someone to ever come at either of them again. She’d taken the head of a syndicate down and she’d do it once more if the need ever arose.

Off in the distance, she could make out a set of beach chairs sunk deeply into the sand, water lapping against their legs and the table between them. The surface of the table was filled with china dishes of fruit, bread, eggs, and meat. Carafes of juice were frosted with condensation. Umoya approached as quietly as the sand would allow, hoping to creep up on the man she wanted to curl into more than should be legal. She leaned down over his shoulder and nipped his pulse. His chuckle was low and vibrating.

“Morning.”

“Hey. How long have you been out here?” She took a seat in the low chair opposite him, stretched her legs out into the water rushing towards them. Umoya plucked a slice of pineapple from a bowl and munched.

“Not long. How’d you sleep?” He took a sip of coffee and set the cup back next to a plate filled with food. He’d made a dent in it, but seemed to have lost interest.

Umoya cocked her head to the side. He knew exactly how she’d slept and why.

He tasted like coconut and champagne cola. Cliché, but still sweet. Mixed with the softness of his lips, it was a heady combination. This kiss, the one that was currently taking Umoya’s breath away, had started off innocently enough.

She’d been sitting on the bed, unlatching the sandal straps from around her ankles when he exited the bathroom. As always, he was a sight to behold. Tall. Brown. Broad. And all hers. He’d smiled at her as he approached then bent down to match Umoya’s seated position.

She locked her gaze with his and bit her lip. He chuckled, palmed her face, then slipped his tongue into her mouth. There was that sweetness. Umoya met every pass of his tongue against hers, every sweep of his mouth over her lips. Umoya needed to be closer so she stood, pressing her entire frame against his which was gloriously only covered by a towel tucked snugly around his waist.

“Lakho ishishini lenziwe?” (Your business is done?)

She fumbled over the words, knew her American accent was thick compared to the musical Xhosa, but for him she tried.

“Y i. Andiyicingi into efanelekileyo.” (It is. I don’t think it’s a good fit.)

The pocket doors of the portico were wide open allowing the whole expanse of the villa access to the sand and the ocean beyond. The scent of burning wood and sea salt and hibiscus flowers filled the room and was circulated by rattan ceiling fans. The roar of the ocean seemed close and far at the same time. Once, Umoya’s father had held a shell to her ear and she’d marveled at the sound of the waves trapped within. He’d laughed at her wonder, telling her it was simply the shell echoing her heartbeat and the blood rushing through her body.

In the moment, Umoya knew that was a lie because M’Baku’s mouth was now pressed to the shell of her ear and she could distinctly hear the waves of promises he whispered into it. The lilt of his accent made it all the sweeter. Umoya loved it when he slipped into his native tongue. He knew that and used it to his advantage. Umoya melted, turned liquid in his arms. She ached to let him fulfill every one of the things he’d promised.

M’Baku was focused, his long fingers unbuttoning the shorts covering her sun browned thighs and tugging the hem of her shirt over her head. When he had Umoya sufficiently nude, the towel shielding him from her fell quietly to the floor. His gaze swept over her, soaking in every detail he could before one long arm reached out and culled her again to him. He palmed the back of her head, returning his tongue to her mouth, pressing her back until the edge of the bed folded her legs and her back connected with the pillow-topped mattress.

He adjusted Umoya until she rested in the center of the bed. He took his time moving his large hands over the peaks and valleys of her nakedness. It felt like he was seeing her for the first time. The final sweep of his hand ended its journey at the curve of her hip. His thumb stroked her skin absentmindedly.

“I missed you.”

He kissed the curve of her shoulder. Then trailed his tongue along the swoop of her collarbone. Next he suckled the spot just below her ear, the one he knew made her shudder. When Umoya’s back arched from the mattress, he grasped her wrists one by one, pinned them above her head. Umoya could feel the thickness, the solidness, of his manhood. Her core unfurled. She broke M’Baku’s travels across her body and brought his face back to hers.

“I missed you, too, but I need you now.”

M’Baku entered her slowly, allowing her body time to adjust to his absence. Umoya arched against him to push her pelvis closer to him, dug her hands into his muscled back. He looped one calf around his waist while keeping his pace steady, almost torturous. His forehead pressed to her, his breath escaping from his parted lips. He was stretching her, filling her, in a way that turned discomfort into pleasure. Using the leg wrapped around his waist, Umoya pulled him deeper then locked the other with it. The arc of his strokes deepened, pulling the merge of their bodies into a concentric circle that threatened to overtake both of them faster than either of them wanted.

M’Baku paused all movement. He took her mouth again, this time sloppily and needy.

“Too soon, love. Way too soon.” 

In tandem, they evened their breathing, brought themselves back from the brink. The softness of his lips returned to her ear. He filled it again with promises laced with his native tongue. Once more, Umoya redirected his mouth to her, forcing him to devour her. M’Baku’s pace increased. Each stroke bounced her slightly from the bed and into his chest. He stilled the movement by gripping her hips tightly, pulled her into him with each thrust.

Umoya caught bits and pieces of what he was growling, but his body told her everything she needed to know. He was making love to her, making her remember just how long it had been since he’d been buried deeply into her, how much he needed her near.

“I slept pretty well. What about you?” A wiggle of her eyebrows made laughter boom from his chest. He grasped her fingers across the table and studied them as their joy settled and faded among the waves.

“You ready to have this talk now?”

“Not really, but you are,” she mused around a mouthful of berries.

M’Baku brought the coffee to his lips once more before shifting his attention fully towards her.

“We have to get back to the city. As much as we needed this, we can’t leave N’Jadaka and Okoye running things forever.”

Umoya bristled. She hadn’t wanted to have this conversation. She wanted to bake under the sun and live in the bubble they’d created for as long as she could. It was the first time she’d felt relaxed in years.

“They’re perfectly capable, Bayo. It’s been ninety days. How long have they been in our employ?”

“That is far from the point. There’s too much on the line now.”

Umoya stared out across the water. “I’m not ready.”

“You’re afraid? Nothing, and no one, is going to harm you. That is never something to concern yourself with.”

She was glad for his confidence and his protection, but Umoya knew the pit of vipers awaiting both of them whenever they set foot back onto the concrete of their home base. She was more than capable of fighting, but not now. Not with the lingering fear of both of their near deaths still fresh in her memory. Umoya may have been a killer, a criminal, and a still reforming drug dealer, but there was still a human heart beating in her chest.

“It’s not fear of what we are and what we do. I just need to prepare for what I know is to come.”

“And that is?” He sipped a measure of guava juice, the glass dangled from his fingers.

“All out war. From the remaining arms of The Collective. What’s left of Harrington’s crew. They’ve seen us bloodied and bruised. Our cracks are showing.”

M’Baku moved swiftly, rising from the chair and coming to a crouch before her. He balanced his hands atop her thighs.

“Go on.” His eyes were steel and Umoya could read the fury swirling within them.

“All this time away can only have allowed it to fester. They’re going to gun for us. They think we’re weak.”

“Let them come, love. Let them come so we can show those bastards who the fuck they’re dealing with.”

***

She hasn’t laughed like this in a very long time, M’Baku mused as he looked over the table at Umoya. She was plunging her fingers into a meaty bit of lobster and twirling it in butter, but her gaze was trained on the crowd before her. Her eyes danced alongside the couples on the makeshift floor. She shouted along with the music, occasionally clapping her hands in joy. This is what he’d wanted when he’d brought her here. Relaxation and happiness away from all that their lives had become. He understood her reluctance to leave, but things couldn’t stay like this forever. They both knew as soon as they were back in the thick of it; her instincts would come back in all their glory.

The rhythmic thump of her heels against the wooden planks was like a heartbeat and before he knew it, M’Baku had joined in the raucous. They shot glances at each other from hooded eyes, lulled by liquor and the heat of the evening. Between sips of strong rum drinks and mouthfuls of seafood, he absorbed her joy and let it sink into his heart. They’d be leaving this paradise soon, but for now he’d let the both of them have this night. As the evening waned, the music slowed and tiny lights lit the inky sky. The couples, once twirling and jumping to the music, now moved in quarter time. M’Baku rose, extended a hand towards Umoya, and pulled her into the center of the floor. His hand spanned the small of her back, her arms draped across his shoulders.

Everything felt sticky, hot and drugged in a manner that made him want this moment to drag on forever. In another life perhaps.

“You’re happy?”

She nodded before she lay her head on his chest. He let her answer linger and hummed along with the music. It was an old tune he recognized from some night at the lounge, one where Umoya had yet to enter his life. M’Baku couldn’t be quite sure, but by the time he pulled himself out of his Umoya induced stupor, the party had started to die down and the tables were starting to clear.

“You know the two of us together is a problem,” he mumbled into her hair.

Her hum let him know she was listening.

“Alone we’re deadly, but together? I’d burn down the world if any more harm came to you. It makes me irrational.”

He felt Umoya start to pull away, but held her fast. “There’s things we need to do to make sure we’re safe, okay?”

“Like what?” She murmured with annoyance lacing her words. “Break up?”

“Don’t be an asshole, Moy. I mean we can’t get lost in each other. Too much danger comes from that. You went after Georgia for me. That wasn’t a business move. It was purely emotional.”

“Oh? So, I should have let that bitch get away with nearly killing you?”   
“You know that’s not what I’m saying. You had me and ‘Daka ready and able to help you. All you had to do was wait.”

Umoya extricated herself from him. “Okoye and I were just fine before the two of you. You tend to forget that. Loving me doesn’t make me less of who I was before you ever knew I existed.”

“And the same for me. You think I ever gave a damn about any woman I ever came across? Let her this close to me and my business? I love you, but I need us to be smart.”

“What does that mean? Please enlighten me.”

M’Baku ran a hand across his face. “It means we keep our guard up in public. We can’t forget the world exists when we’re together.”

“You’re telling me this why? Because as I recall it, I’m the one always reminding you how soft you are. Don’t you worry, though. I hear you. I’m headed home.”

***  
Something wasn’t right. Umoya could feel it the moment her foot hit the sandy walkway leading up to the villa. The sound of the ocean was the same as it ever was, but the electric hum of the generator was missing. Just as she had become accustomed to the other sounds of the island, Umoya knew how the generator kicked on and off in a cycle that cooled the home and powered everything within it. It had been annoying at first, but just like everything else that tried her patience she’d learned to push it to the side or destroy it.

The path’s paving stones were warm beneath her bare feet and she was grateful for the muffling of her footsteps; heels would have certainly drawn attention. Umoya noted the absent lights of M’Baku’s study soon after the generator’s absence settled into her ears. The room usually glowed golden from a desk lamp atop the teak surface. And she could spy through the glass portico doors the pool lights were dark. No power, she surmised as she noted the lights on in the hills across the water.

She outstretched a hand towards M’Baku, pressing it against his midsection to halt him several feet from the door. His fingers caressed her wrist lovingly and she crumpled his dark t-shirt into her palm to alert him to stop. At the first rush of air from between his lips, she clucked to silence him, then reversed their steps down the walkway until they were shrouded in the shadows of palms and seagrasses.

“The power is cut.”

“How…” he started to inquire.

“Do you hear the generator? The world exists, remember?”

Umoya glanced at up at him. His brow was beginning to furrow when the lack of noise hit him. She watched the curl of his lips move from relaxed to a scowl. Darkness crept in and he moved to position her behind him by instinct. Umoya stood her ground and moved shoulder to shoulder with him looking up towards the house. A breeze fluttered through the trees and ruffled the billowy skirt around her ankles. The black halter dress had been perfect for dinner, but now Umoya saw it as nothing but a hindrance. Nothing, man nor beast, was moving inside the house that they could make out from their vantage point. Umoya felt M’Baku widen his stance and reach towards the small of his back. She knew the weight of what sat at the base of his spine.

“You stay here, Moy. Let me figure out what’s going on.”

Umoya propped a hand on her hip and let loose a low growl. “This is the plan. You take the front door and I slip into the side entrance.”

“For what reason?” he hissed. “I have the weapon.”

“Never assume I’m not armed,” she bantered back before she raised the hem of her dress and exposed a slim holster. “Had you tried…”

It was M’Baku’s turn to growl. “Just wait until we get this sorted.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, love,” she threw back as she started through the brush of trees.   
***

M’Baku waited for the clatter of Umoya’s shoes to sound in the bedroom and then the lull of her voice echoing down the hallway. Had he not known the distraction they were laying down, he would have assumed this was any other evening they’d returned from town and were settling down for the night. He grimaced at the shadowy figure moving from one end of the expansive living room towards the sound of her voice, another and then another moving slowly behind it. Three intruders. Three lives to end.

Collapsing his body as much as it would allow, M’Baku snaked his frame through the small space of the sliding door. His bare feet were soundless and he was glad that he’d already chambered a bullet before entering the house. He wanted as much of a tactical advantage as he could muster. Shock and awe. He pressed his body against the wall, used his hands to guide himself through the darkness and along the furniture until he reached the mouth of the hallway. He could hear Umoya’s voice again, feigning ignorance at why the power was out. Slowly, and steadily, M’Baku moved into the open space directly behind the men. They were several feet ahead with their focus on the slightly ajar door that hid Umoya from their view. His hand clutched the butt of the weapon, imprinting the pattern into his skin with the force.

“Bayo?” Umoya called. “Honey, where’s the remote?” That was his cue she was stepping into the fray.

Umoya glided into the hazy darkness of the hallway. The white of the fitted t-shirt she changed into seemed to softly glow. She’d paired it with dove gray lounge pants and M’Baku knew at the base of her spine, too, was a compact pistol. He remained silent as she came fully into the open space. False shock came across her face as she sized up the men. M’Baku knew from her retelling of her kidnapping she knew the real fear the came from moments like this. But this time she wasn’t alone and unarmed. M’Baku watched the first man take a step towards her, watched her hands come up in false surrender.

“What do you want?

She was met with silence.

“There’s money you can have. Take what you want to and go!”

Another step forward and M’Baku was done. A rueful smile crossed his lips. Showtime.

“Gentlemen?” The word had barely hit the air before his first bullet sounded and all hell broke loose.

Umoya moved just as her namesake, a ghost who ducked and rolled back into the bedroom. Bullets sank into the night and before he knew it, M’Baku was training his weapon around the corner while Umoya was braced behind the heavy bedroom door. The men were caught in the crossfire, trying their best to crouch down in the confined space as they fired blindly back into the darkness. Muzzle flashes were the only source of light for lingering moments before the pop of pistols subsided and the space between he and Umoya was filled with two dead bodies and one gurgling with the last bits of life.

M’Baku moved cautiously towards the men, prodding two of them with his foot and aiming his gun at the other while he checked for signs of life. Satisfied two had moved on to the ancestors, M’Baku pulled his attention fully to the final intruder. He took a second to watch the blood seeping from the corner of his mouth and between his fingers.

“Who sent you?”

His statement was feral. He felt Umoya at his elbow, her hand pressed against him. She moved around him and crouched next to the dying man.

“You’ll have to forgive him. In his anger he believes you’re actually going to talk. I know better.” Her words were sickeningly sweet. “I also know that you’re barely competent. The house wasn’t properly cleared, the power cut was sloppy, and you let yourself get cornered.”

Umoya cocked her head and for a moment M’Baku thought he saw sympathy soften her features. The man’s breathing quickened then shallowed. He tried to sputter a few words as his eyes lost focus.

“Shhh. It’s okay. Just let go. Whoever sent you should have prepared you for this. It was a suicide mission, you know.”

Umoya stared at the assailant until his body went slack. Without a word, she rose and returned to the bedroom with M’Baku close on her heels.   
***

“What the fuck was that?!” Umoya screamed at him, her chest rising and falling with anger and lack of breath. “Were you trying to get us killed?”

She paced the disheveled bedroom. Here and there a few feathers floated down from the ceiling. The air smelled of cordite. Her hands were propped on her hips, her gun bouncing as she paced. Umoya muttered under her breath.

“Fucking unbelievable, Bayo!”

She stood her ground when he surged forward. Umoya wasn’t the least bit intimidated.

“What are you complaining about?” He questioned as he placed his gun on the dresser. “Those men violated our peace and now they are resting in it.”

“After a hallway shootout. Do you understand one of us could have gotten hit? Killed?”

Her voice broke and she held M’Baku at bay with a shake of her head when he attempted to come closer.

“Moy…”

“I’m fine.”

He raised an eyebrow at her less than convincing statement.

“I’ll be fine. Is that better?” Umoya placed her weapon next to his and took a heavy seat on the edge of the bed. “I’m struggling.”

He took a seat next to her, the mattress accepting his weight before he gathered her hand into his.

“Me, too. So, what now?”

“Man the hell up and go back to the States or hide here forever?”

M’Baku let out a throaty roar. “We already know the answer to that, sweetheart. What we built is ours and it’s time to crush any opposition.”

“Ready or not?”

“Ready or not.”


End file.
